


Demons and Angels

by devilries



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: But Never Told Anyone, Domestic Fluff, Emily Prentiss Had A Son, Episode AU: s04e17 Demonology, F/F, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jemily Family Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilries/pseuds/devilries
Summary: The death of an old childhood friend brings back past demons that Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss thought was long forgotten — or the AU where Emily Prentiss was forced to give up her son at age fifteen and he comes back into her life in the most unexpected way.
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss
Comments: 24
Kudos: 86





	1. Prologue

**DENVER, COLORADO | 9:35 P.M.**

ONE BAD FOSTER home culminated two killers, and thirteen people were dead as a result.

But thanks to the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the F.B.I., the chaos was finally over and the case was now closed. Earlier that day, Gary and his partner-in-crime, Ervin Robles, had been brought into Denver police custody to await sentencing by the judge. The foster children living with Mr. and Mrs. Manwaring had been removed by Children Protective Services to be placed in more suitable and permanent homes. Everyone was safe again, and justice had been served. With another solved case under their belts, the BAU was due to return home.

Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss absentmindedly shuffled the case papers around the desk as she packed up her things.

Her mind was on the fifteen-year-old girl sitting at the police station waiting to be told she could leave. Carrie Ortiz had been one of the lucky ones, but that term was relative, and Emily could hardly consider the poor kid lucky. She had to witness her own parents be bludgeoned to death with a poker stick, only to run upstairs to find her little brother dead by lethal injection. She would have been killed too, except she had been apparently "lucky" to have escaped the ordeal.

Emily shook her head to herself as she shoved the rest of the files into a folder. Their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, had found Carrie's distant relatives in Los Angeles, though they had yet to hear back from them — so much for family. Emily would be lying if she said that she hadn't considered taking the teen in herself. It would be a big responsibility, sure, but Emily had resources that few could boast about, and she had plenty of experience regarding the trauma that the teen was going through. Throwing Carrie into foster care now, all by herself and with no strong support system, would just be downright cruel.

"I could take her," Emily blurted out. She glanced up at her boss, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, who had a look of alarm and confusion in his usually indifferent features. She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but now that she did, there was no turning back.

" _Take her?_ "

"Carrie," Emily said and then clarified when he still didn't seem to catch her drift. "To D.C."

"You mean to live with you?"

"Yeah."

"Why would you want to do that?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders as she collected the last of the papers and photographs. "I have room, money, and you know, she's smart. In two, three years, she'll go to college."

"Prentiss." Aaron's tone was stern, and Emily stilled because the way her boss said her name made her insides twist uneasily. She was about to get her hopes crushed, and she knew it. "This is the job, and I need to know that you can be objective."

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat. "And I need to know that I can be human," she shot back.

Aaron's face remained impassive, but Emily caught the hint of sympathy and understanding flashing in his eyes. "JJ heard from the family, and they're on their way from L.A.”

The news hit Emily like a freight train. "Oh." One syllable. It was all she could manage when she realized just how much she had wanted to take Carrie in. Her heart crumbled in her chest. She didn't understand why. Carrie wasn't even her kid to begin with. "That's... that's great."

_But was it really?_

Aaron collected the packed file from her. He nodded slowly. It was barely perceptible. "I'm sorry," he said. Then, he stepped away from the conference room that the team had holed up in for the last week, leaving Emily to gather the rest of her things.

She stared aimlessly at the box of files in front of her for a long moment. The picture of the Ortiz family stared back at her.

Emily sighed.

She shut the cardboard lid and turned off the light on her way out.

* * *

“TELL ME THEY'VE restocked the bar," Special Agent Derek Morgan bemoaned as the team filed into the private jet after they had gathered all their belongings and tied up loose ends.

"I called ahead," Special Agent Jennifer Jareau replied with a small wry smile. She knew they were all feeling it, the effects of exhaustion, mentally-drained from the horrible case they had just closed.

Emily was already seated in the four-passenger wing, resting against the window, allowing herself to be consumed by the thoughts swarming around her mind. She had overheard Derek's complaint and let a slight smile lift the corners of her mouth. A bottle of whiskey or beer was one way to deal with a heavy case. Although, personally, she preferred a glass of pinot noir, and not the cheap kind either. Their soul-sucking cases demanded the good stuff to get them through the week. But if it were up to her, she’d be at home already, post-long-hot-shower and snuggled into comfortable pajamas. Oh, Emily prayed that the flight back would be quick.

JJ slipped into the seat across from her with a broad smile stretching her lips. Emily returned the gesture, but it must have not have been as genuine as she had aimed for because the blonde-haired agent across from her frowned slightly.

"You okay?" JJ asked. There was concern in her bright blue eyes.

Emily wordlessly reached out to hold her partner's hand.

JJ smiled sadly and stroked Emily's palm. They sat in silence for a few minutes, basking in each other's company. "They're good people. Carrie's family," JJ finally said in a soft voice.

It was like she knew exactly what Emily had been obsessing over the last hour. It could almost be classified as scary, but Emily figured Hotch must have mentioned it to JJ in passing. She briefly averted her gaze, cringing at the still painful and humiliating moment she'd had with her boss. How could she have thought it would have been easy? She was a full-time federal agent working 60 hours a week with trips in between. She wasn’t married, but she wasn’t single either, and she wasn’t sure if that was a worse situation. Child Protective Services would have to be borderline desperate to grant her — no, _them_ — custody of an unstable minor.

"Good. I'm glad," Emily quietly replied. She meant it, too.

JJ's eyes never left Emily's face. "I think it's a good idea though."

The older brunette agent tilted her head to the side, confused. "What's that?"

"You... kids..." At Emily's look of incredulity, JJ simply shrugged her shoulders and insisted, "I can see it. You'd make a wonderful mother one day."

Emily took a moment to let her best friend and partner's statement sink in. Perhaps it was true; maybe she could be a mother after all. JJ would never lie to her. "Yeah?" Emily asked, uncertain.

JJ nodded with a lopsided smile, absolute confidence in her declaration.

Emily smiled back, genuinely this time. However, as the nagging voice inside her head scolded her for her hypocrisy, the smile slowly faded. Sure, she could have a kid, but it didn't necessarily make her a mother. Because if it did, she would have been one fourteen years ago.

And Emily Prentiss knew it.

* * *

TWO THOUSAND MILES away, in Georgetown, District of Columbia, a young teenage boy sat on the couch of his grandparent's townhome mourning the sudden death of his father. His grandparents stood beside him, his grandmother weeping hysterically into his grandfather's chest as they were forced to watch two EMTs wheel their dead son away on a gurney. A white sheet had been laid over the body for privacy, but the boy could still make out the prominent outline of an unmoving figure underneath.

The boy averted his gaze from the grim sight and lowered his head into his hands.

How could this have happened?

Just hours ago, they had been happy. It had been a Friday. The boy had finished school for the semester. His father had gotten off from work per usual and had picked up burgers from their favorite diner as a celebratory dinner. They had eaten their meal together, sitting on the couch and laughing through a rerun of some old comedy-action movie. They had planned to go to the theatre that Sunday to watch the new Marvel movie. The boy had been especially excited by the prospect, except now — he supposed they never would be able to see that movie after all.

He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, fighting back the tears that were burning his eyes. His father was gone, just like that, and all it had taken was a late night phone call and an unexpected visitor to change the boy's life forever.

He bit down on his lower lip and clenched his fist at the disturbing thought. He wished his father had never taken that phone call. He had known that something wasn’t quite right. His father wouldn't be on a gurney right now being wheeled to the morgue by two jaded-looking EMTs if he had just stood his ground. If he had just told his father one more time that it wasn’t a good idea.

Outside, the December rainstorm continued to wreak havoc over the Capital City. The front door suddenly opened, bringing in a cold gust of wind and water. One of the responding officers stepped into the parlor, bowing his head downward in respect and removing his policeman's cap when the EMTs passed him on the way out. When he finally looked up, his gaze was focused on the grieving family in front of him.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Benton. If there is anything the MPD can do for your family, please let us know," the police officer said in a solemn tone.

The boy tuned out his grandparent’s response, instead focusing on the school bag that laid at his feet. A week ago, his father had dropped him off at a local coffee shop while he ran a mysterious errand that had lasted a couple of hours. When his father had finally returned, he had given him a manila envelope and made him promise to deliver it to his old friend should the need arise. In retrospect, the boy should have been eerily disturbed by the timing of it all.

_The young teenage boy clambered into his father's SUV with a drink holder in one hand and a plastic bakery box in another. A messenger bag was slung awkwardly over his left shoulder, and he slightly struggled with the strap getting caught on the seat. Eventually, he got himself situated and shut the car door with a tired huff. A strong aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and warm baked goods permeated throughout the car._

_"Whew, what did you do? Dive into a bag of coffee beans?” His father chuckled humorously._

_“Well, I might as well have seeing as you left me in that shop for over two hours," the boy complained in good nature as he handed his father a steaming cup of espresso and a box which had two warm croissants waiting inside. "Mr. Harold says it's on the house because one of his new hires accidentally made too many. He also says hello by the way."_

_"That's awfully nice of him. Make sure you thank him for me next time."_

_"I will." The boy nodded in agreement as he sipped his own drink of hot chocolate. "So what was that errand you had to run? You know the one that you had to leave me behind to do? You should have just left me at home.“_

_When the boy was met with just silence, he looked over at his father, who seemed lost in thought. The boy knitted his eyebrows together in both confusion and worry. “Dad?” the boy tried. “Are you okay?”_

_His father remained motionless for what seemed like forever, but in reality was just a few more seconds. Suddenly, his father seemed to snap out of his stupor, nodding to himself as he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a thick manila envelope. The boy’s eyes curiously grazed over it. "What is that?”_

_“Paperwork,” his father replied._

_“Okay,” the boy said skeptically. His father had never acted in such an apprehensive behavior before. Perhaps, it was because the boy watched too many television crime shows, but something was up._

_His father cracked a tiny smile and chuckled at the boy’s squinty pout. “Honest. It’s just a lot of paperwork.”_

_“Then, why all the secrecy all of a sudden?”_

_“Because I need you to promise me something, Adrian.“ His father’s expression suddenly turned serious, and Adrian frowned at the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach._

_"Anything, dad.”_

_"Do you remember my old friend I've always told you about?"_

_"John?" Adrian asked. His father shook his head. "Emily?" Adrian guessed again. To that, his father nodded with a wistful smile._

_"Yes. Her name is Emily Prentiss. She is an agent for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."_

_"You've told me this before,” Adrian reminded him with a small laugh._

_"I know… It’s just… If anything happens to me—“ his father spoke quietly._

_"What? Wh-What do you mean ‘if anything happens’?” Adrian said indignantly. “Nothing is going to happen! Are you in some kind of trouble?”_

_“No.” His father shook his head, gently clasping his hands over the teenage boy’s shoulders. “Listen to me, bud, this is just a precaution, alright? I’m not saying something will happen. I just want you to be prepared in the case that something does happen.”_

_Adrian felt his mouth go dry. He licked his lips and bounced his leg. “Like a will?”_

_“Something of the sort.”_

_“If it is just a will, then why are you being so ominous about this? Shouldn’t this be going to a lawyer and not me?“ Adrian’s eyes widened in alarm when his father pushed the envelope into his hands._

_"I don’t… I don’t exactly trust easily,” his father confessed. “I can count on one hand the number of people I trust, and you are one of them.” His father looked him in the eye as serious as ever. Adrian gulped at the admission. He felt honored, a little scared, but incredibly humbled nonetheless._

_“Okay,” Adrian said softly. “If anything happens to you, I'll give this to Emily. I promise."_

_"Attaboy.” His father ruffled his hair, affectionately._

_Adrian thought his father had looked a bit relieved at the revelation, like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. It made the boy’s nerves flutter restlessly in the pit of his stomach. Something awful was going to happen. He knew — even as the envelope sat unopened in his messenger bag._

The boy could remember that moment as clear as day. How could he have forgotten his father’s request? His _last_ request, if the boy thought hard enough about it.

Grasping the bag tightly in his hands, Adrian Benton knew what he had to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**BELOVED PRIEST OF THE VATICAN TRAGICALLY** **PASSES AWAY FROM SUDDEN HEART ATTACK**

The man read the headline and promptly crumbled the newspaper into a ball. There was nothing the man despised more than lying. Lying was a sin, and the La Voz de Galicia newspaper had done just that. In bolded archetypical fashion, the printing press had plastered the heading on page four of their latest release. So, not only had they lied, but they had also decided that propaganda for an upcoming fútbol game took precedence over something they had labeled a tragedy.

Father Raul Del Toro had deserved a much better fate. Though his soul was now resting in the heavens with eternal salvation, there was nothing more demeaning in God’s eyes than the Father’s death having been told as a lie. He hadn’t died peacefully. He had been murdered in cold blood.

The man clenched his jaw as he pursed his lips into a fine line. Behind his slouching figure, rain showered mercilessly against the windowpane. Thunder roared in the distance as a bolt of lightning cracked the midnight sky in half. Jagged flashes of light cast a momentary glow against the pale beige walls. It was during one of these brief pauses that the man’s haggard eyes fell to the photograph clipped beneath an empty bowl.

He picked it up and gazed at it, intently. The person in the photo had once been a very handsome young man. Dressed in a crisp suit and tie, the young man had his short dark brown hair brushed neatly to one side, a toothless smile lifting the corners of his lips. There had to have been some sort of significance for the picture-perfect snapshot, but the owners of the memento, Mr. and Mrs. Benton, hadn’t said much to the man when they had pressed it desperately into his hands. _Please help our son_ , they had begged. Nostalgia and longing had clung to them like a wretched curse.

The man tossed the worn cardboard stock into the bowl on the nightstand. Disgust curled his lips back, but the glimmer of consolation rising in his chest tugged the antipathetic emotion away. He slowly allowed himself a smile when he remembered the demonized yells of the tortured soul he had helped release. They had sounded savagely animalistic, completely inhuman, and the man was glad that the Bentons’ son could finally rest in peace.

No amount of prayer could have saved that young man.

_The demonology forbade it._

However, the man’s job wasn’t done. There were more demons in the world to be rid of. Matthew Benton hadn’t been the first, and he most certainly wouldn’t be the last. The troubled young man had been possessed by an incredibly dangerous and evil spirit, a conduit for the world of hell, the same demon who had murdered Father Del Toro. Anyone who had contact with the Benton man had the potential of being possessed.

The man lit a match and threw it into the bowl, watching as the photograph caught fire, and the shell of the young man melted into ash. He picked up the next photo in the stack and smiled grimly.

_The next soul to be freed._


	3. Chapter 3

THUNDER ROARED IN the distance as rain pelted against the black sedan rolling through the empty streets. Emily Prentiss pulled to a stop in front of Georgetown's local bar, a conflicted feeling in her gut.

She hadn’t heard from him in over fourteen years, and yet here she was, laying waste to her rare night off to meet with one Mister Cooley. It had only been mere hours ago that the BAU had wrapped up their latest case, so it wasn’t like Emily wasn’t exhausted. Her body was aching from the long plane ride back home, and the rain was chilling her to the bone. But when Emily had received John Cooley’s phone call after hours, she just couldn’t not see him, especially not when he had sounded so desperate.

John, or Johnny as Emily remembered him as, was an old friend she had become acquainted with while her mother had been posted as the _Chargée d’ Affaires_ in the Italian Embassy. They had attended high school in Rome together and as fifteen-year-olds, had done incredibly dumb and slightly regretful things. One of those things involved nearly getting thrown out of a Catholic church and almost being disowned by her own mother. It had not been a fun time for Emily. Her past was coming back to haunt her, and she was letting it.

Emily shut off her car and took a deep breath to calm her nerves before ducking out into the rain.

The bar was one of those dingy, hole-in-the-wall places Emily would never think about going to unless she was really down in the mind. Glowing neon signs in the window advertised late-night live music and ice-cold bottled beers. Opening the door, Emily was greeted with a blast of warm air and dim atmospheric lights. The room reeked of stale cigarette smoke and the musk of old beer, but it was low-key and quiet. Only a few patrons lingered about in their own corners.

She found her old friend at the bar slouching on one of the stools and nursing a barely-touched whiskey highball. He recoiled when Emily tapped on his shoulder, but soon enough, a wide smile graced his mature features. It had definitely been one too many years since she saw Johnny. He was a bit scruffy now, and he had grown out his hair, but his smile and charming personality seemed to be the same.

“Look at you,” John exclaimed as he raised his arms to give Emily a hug.

There was something awkward about seeing him again. Emily could feel the tension coming off in waves, and she involuntarily stiffened in his embrace with the poor excuse of, "Oh, sorry, I'm wet."

John smiled a bit self-consciously. “I’m sorry to make you drive in this."

"It sounded urgent."

"It's really good to see you. It's been forever."

"Johnny, what's going on?" Emily interjected, cutting to the chase.

"It’s… Matthew,” John admitted with some reluctance. His odd, dodgy behavior seemed to dissipate with the revelation as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He looked away, sorrow in his dark eyes.

“Benton?" Emily asked, knowingly. Matthew Benton was the only Matthew they both knew. An old friend. An incredibly messed up friend, but a good one nonetheless. It made sense as to why John would want to see her now after all these years.

"He’s…” John licked his lips uneasily. “He’s dead, Emily. I... I didn't want to tell you over the phone."

Emily was floored. A wave of shock and disbelief flooded over her, and she suddenly felt sick. This had not been what she was expecting. Sure, Matthew had been a little troubled when they were teens. And yes, he had problems using drugs. But Matthew meant a lot to Emily and to know he had died young and so unexpectedly… It was devastating.

"Wha-H-How?" Emily stuttered.

“His son, Adrian, called me,” John replied softly. “Said he had a heart attack. I'm-I'm really sorry, Emily.”

 _His son, Adrian_. Emily swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. She would not cry, at least not now. She could save her grief for when she was at home alone. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t know Matthew had a son.”

“He adopted him from Rome about… four years ago? Yeah, that sounds about right. Adrian was ten then, and he’s fourteen now.”

“Did he say why?“

“Why? I mean, I guess it seemed out of the blue to me, but Matthew was hell-bent on getting the kid over here. Said he knew him from a long time ago, but I really don’t know, and Matthew really didn’t say much about it.”

Emily felt the blood drain from her face. “Did you see him?”

“Adrian? Well, yeah, a couple of times. He’s a sweet kid. Shy, but incredibly smart. Gave me a run for my money in chess. He reminds me of you in a way.”

Emily bit the inside of her cheek so hard, it started to bleed. “And-And Matthew? How was he?" she choked out.

"He was… Matthew. Rambling, a little chaotic."

“He was using."

"I don't know… maybe.” John avoided her gaze as he fumbled with the rim of his drink.

Emily stared at him, that ominous feeling settling in her gut. ”There's something you're not telling me."

Her old friend hesitated but resigned with a reluctant nod. “Last time I saw him, there was something different. He was talking crazy, but the fear… I can't quite explain it, but I know it was real."

"What was he saying?"

"He said, ‘Johnny, they're going to kill us.’”

Emily raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Us? They?”

“He wouldn't say. He said they already murdered a guy from Georgetown named Tommy Vee. Made it look like an accident. Matthew was… worried. I had never seen him so unhinged before.”

Emily frowned. “Do you know anyone named Tommy Vee?”

"No. Look, he's probably just being paranoid. You know how he is, but with what you do for a living now..." he trailed off.

"Yeah, yeah. I’ll look into it,” Emily slowly said.`

“I never realized how much Matthew really loved Adrian until now,” John solemnly mused as he played with his drink. “I’d never pictured him as a father before, but he did the job well, and Adrian’s a good kid.” John looked up at the agent with a pleading expression. “Do you think you could check up on him? I’d do it myself, but the grandparents… Matthew’s parents… You know how they are.”

Emily gulped and nodded. She doubted she would have any more luck than John considering her own tentative past with Matthew’s parents, but she owed him — and Matthew — as much.

"You know you're one of the only people he trusted, Emily."

“Yeah… Yeah… I can do that…” Emily mumbled to herself as she walked out the door.

John watched her go, worry in his eyes for the brunette-haired woman who seemed just as unhinged as his old friend had been.


	4. Chapter 4

EMILY SAT IN her car, soaking wet from the downpour and feeling painstakingly empty. Had it really been fourteen years since she saw that brown-haired, bright-eyed boy who saved her life? It had, and Emily was feeling the heavy guilt from it too.

Throughout her teenage years, all Emily had wanted was to fit in. Moving from country to country because her mother was a United States Ambassador had been hard enough as is. Add in the fact that she’d never gotten along with mother in the first place, and Emily became a little messed up. When her mother had found out Emily had gotten pregnant at age fifteen, she’d been absolutely livid. Red-in-the-face with an expression of pure disappointment and disgust, Elizabeth Prentiss had left no room for discussion when she had forced Emily to sign away her parental rights, effectively leaving Emily’s unborn baby at the mercy of the Italian foster system.

Elizabeth had been called away to a different posting soon after Emily and Matthew’s son was born. It had broken Emily to leave, but she had no choice. She had packed her bags and left her past in Rome behind so easily that it had scared her. Not once had she ever tried to contact Matthew Benton or John Cooley again. But not once had she ever forgotten them or the son she had left behind. Not once.

She hadn’t seen Matthew in as many years as Johnny, but somehow, the pain of knowing that Matthew was gone forever seemed as agonizing as it would have been if Emily knew him all her life. However, what really threw Emily in a loop was that Matthew had done it. He had actually kept the promise he made when their son had been born fourteen years ago. She could recall that moment like it was yesterday.

_“Wow. He’s beautiful, Emily,” fifteen-year-old Matthew marveled in a soft tone. His gentle brown eyes were on the newborn baby resting peacefully in Emily’s arms. The infant squirmed a little in his sleep, and Matthew smiled in adoration at his tiny croons._

_Emily lifted her gaze briefly to see her best friend in absolute awe. She had never seen such an expression on his face before, but she didn’t need to be a genius to know that he was in love. The fondness that Matthew had for his own son right then and there was so endearing that Emily nearly started sobbing. It just wasn’t fair. Nine months of restless sleep and puking her guts up every morning, and she still wasn’t ready to give up this precious, tiny human-being. Emily didn’t think she would ever be ready._

_Emily despised her mother for making her give up her own baby for adoption. The timing may have been off — they were still kids themselves after all — but this was still their baby. Their child. He was a part of them. Emily’s own little heart outside of her body._

_She let out a sniffle, and Matthew met her gaze with sad eyes._

_“It’ll be okay, Em.”_

_Emily sniffled some more and shook her head, chuckling humorlessly. “I knew I shouldn’t have done this. Mother told me not to hold him, and she was right.”_

_“Hey now, come on. You don’t mean that,” Matthew protested. “You would have regretted not holding your own son.”_

_“But he’s not really my son now is he?” Emily retorted bitterly. She suddenly handed the infant off to Matthew, who made a noise of surprise that jolted the newborn awake._

_“Em!” Matthew hissed as he gently rocked the baby in his arms to keep it from crying. The baby whined and squirmed._

_“It’s true!” Emily snapped. “We both signed the papers. He’s not ours anymore. At least not legally.”_

_Matthew’s glare softened at Emily’s broken expression. He rocked the infant a bit more, admiring the way his son fit so perfectly in his arms. “I’ll get him back one day,” he said quietly._

_“You can’t promise that.”_

_Matthew looked down at the tiny human in his arms, cradling him delicately and noting the obscure grayish-blue hue of the baby’s eyes. He had learned enough science in high school to know newborns would not develop true eye color until at least two years, but Matthew still hoped that he would have Emily’s beautifully-colored eyes and her chiseled face shape. His eyebrows and nose were more like Matthew’s, but with those dimples, his kid would definitely have a handsome Prentiss smile._

_“He’s our son. I have to.”_

If Matthew Benton really had been murdered, then Emily would need to prove that the cause of death had been premeditated and not natural like the police had initially thought. Proving that a heart attack had been inflicted intentionally was going to be difficult, especially if the locals themselves hadn’t even thought of it.

The first thing Emily did was call one of her best friends, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia. The line only rang twice before her friend picked up.

“You have reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius,” Penelope’s voice chimed happily.

Emily took a deep breath to calm her trembling nerves. “Hey, Garcia. I’m sorry to call this late.”

“Not at all, buttercup! How may the Oracle assist you this fine hour?” Penelope sounded chipper, despite the measly time of night, and it was rather refreshing. Leave it to Penelope to be the other ray of sunshine in Emily’s life.

“I need you to look up everything you can on a man who recently died in Georgetown. Goes by Tommy Vee.”

“Sure thing, Emily. Shall I send the info to your tablet?”

“Actually, do you think you could make up a file for me? I’m heading back to the BAU as we speak.”

“Oh.” Penelope sounded surprised. “Well, of course. I’ll have the file all ready for you. Is everything okay?”

 _Is everything okay?_ God, no. Nothing was going right. One thing was for sure, Emily had never felt so drained in her life. By the time she had finished a fourteen-hour workday, she was already running on fumes. When she had learned her old friend from Italy had died, her shoulders had gotten a bit heavier. And now that homicide was a possible variable in the equation, Emily was seconds away from crumbling into a heap right then and there. Don’t even get her started on the fact that her long-lost son was just miles away from where she sitting, or Emily might have to be checked into a psych ward by dawn.

No, no, that would not do. Emily Prentiss was just fine, pending a splitting headache.

She sighed into the phone and forced the fakest smile she could muster even though Penelope wasn’t there to see. “Everything’s fine, Penelope. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“If you say so.” Judging from her tone, Penelope didn’t seem the slightest bit convinced, but the woman let the matter go much to Emily’s relief. “I’ll see you in a little bit then. Garcia out.”

Forty minutes later, Emily stepped out of the elevator onto the sixth floor of the FBI headquarters in Quantico. She caught her reflection briefly in the mirror before the door slid shut and grimaced at the horrendous sight. Emily looked about as she felt. Her hair was a wild mess of wet, tangled curls. Water dripped from her jacket, and her pants were absolutely drenched from the rain. Dark circles encompassed her eyes which were bloodshot from a lack of sleep in the past twenty-four hours. Her pale complexion looked almost ghostly under the fluorescent office lights. 

Emily couldn’t even pretend to be happy when Penelope greeted her at the elevators; her energy was sapped.

“My lord, it’s kitties and poodles out there. Did you hear it might even snow?” the technical analyst exclaimed with a look of child-like wonder. Any other day, Emily would have humored her friend, but today was unlike any other.

“Did you find anything on Tommy Vee?”

“If by chance you mean Thomas Valentine, age 35, found dead in his home from dehydration, as a matter of fact…” Penelope trailed off with an expression of concern for her fellow co-worker who seemed unusually down. “What’s going on?”

“Is Hotch still here?” Emily asked, not glancing up from the file Penelope had given her.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he lives here.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Emily mumbled as she walked past the baffled technical analyst, heading straight for her boss’s office.

The meeting with Aaron Hotchner had gone exactly how Emily had hoped it would. She knew the man well enough to know he had not been entirely convinced when Emily had suggested her old friend, Matthew Benton, may have been murdered. The odds were infinitesimally slim after all, and Emily didn’t have any evidence from the medical examiner to back it up. However, she also knew that Aaron had much more compassion and understanding than most bureaucrats in the FBI, so when he had graciously granted her the leeway she needed to look into the case, the relief that Emily felt was incredibly welcoming. The last thing she needed was to relive her CIA days in Interpol as an international spy. She was no James Bond or Jason Bourne.

Emily glanced through the file at her desk and made a few quick phone calls to the medical examiner’s office. Once she ended the call, she sighed heavily, grabbed her things, and left for the underground garage. Originally, she had wanted to start investigating right away, but she also knew that once she started, she would not stop until Matthew’s killer was apprehended and thrown into the deepest, darkest hellhole on Earth. However, logically, she knew she should just go home and get as much sleep as she could get, which wasn’t going be a whole lot, all things considering.

Explaining this mess to her partner was going to be interesting. Emily’s phone rang and digging around in her purse for it, she realized she had over a dozen missed messages and calls.

_Yes, interesting indeed._


	5. Chapter 5

EMILY DIDN’T ARRIVE at her townhome in Dupont Circle until just after one in the morning. By that time, the streets were practically barren of any cars and people, and many of her neighbors’ lights were off. From outside, Emily could spot the tiniest sliver of light emitting from the master bedroom even though the thermal curtains were drawn, and the Venetian blinds were shut.

Emily sighed as she gripped her purse in one hand and unhurriedly fished around for her house keys with the other. The light meant that they were awake, which also meant that as much as Emily had hoped, she would not be escaping this conversation. Emily found her jingling keys at last and unlocked the front door. She was immediately greeted with the quiet chime of the alarm being activated and the pleasant scent of vanilla-and-cinnamon-infused incense. Emily welcomed the familiarity as she shrugged off her soggy coat and kicked her muddy boots into the shoe rack by the door.

“Emily?” The lulling voice of Emily’s partner carried down the stairs. “Is that you?”

Emily didn’t have to answer because she was soon met with the breathtaking sight of her partner-in-crime, best friend, and girlfriend all rolled into one. Jennifer Jareau was standing at the top of the stairs, peering down over the iron-wrought railing with slightly furrowed eyebrows and half-lidded eyes. Her long blonde hair was held together in a messy bun on top of her head, and her white tank top was slightly wrinkled around the edges. Emily’s old sweatpants from her time at Yale sat baggily around her hips. JJ looked as if she had just rolled out of bed, and yet, Emily still found her appearance just as stunning as she would be getting ready for the annual FBI gala.

Emily offered her a sheepish smile. “Hi, JJ.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at the response, only a touch amused. “ _Hi, JJ_? Really, Em? At a time like this?”

Emily’s body sagged, and her smile dropped as she deposited her purse beside the couch. For what felt like the hundredth time that night, she let out a heavy sigh. “Garcia?” she asked with a knowing tone.

JJ stopped at the foot of the stairs, charily watching Emily shuffle across their living room floor. “She called me, I’m guessing, right around the time you finally left the office? She was really worried about you, Em. She said you looked like someone had run over Sergio… _twice_.”

Emily snorted as she rearmed the house alarm. “She didn’t need to be _that_ dramatic.”

“And yet, you’re not denying it.”

“It’s been… a rough night.”

“I’ll say. You said you were meeting up with an old friend of yours. What exactly happened in those four hours you were gone? Especially one that warranted a trip back to the BAU?”

“Well, that in itself is a very long story.”

JJ’s blue eyes darted to the old grandfather clock standing in the nearby corner. It was an antique that Emily had inevitably moved into their home when the lease for her old apartment had ended. The clock had looked awkward among their modernized furnishings, its eighteenth-century wood standing out against their twenty-first-century contemporary theme. Ultimately, it had been the clock’s beautiful craftsmanship and prized history that had JJ begrudgingly accepting it into their home. Emily hadn’t been about to part with it anyways.

“Well,” JJ exhaled, “all we’ve got is time.”

A heavy silence settled over the two women. Emily was gnawing on her lower lip, internally weighing the pros and cons, while JJ waited with the unwavering patience of a monument. Finally, Emily seemed to resign herself with the fact that her partner wasn’t about to let this sweep under the rug. JJ deserved to know, especially if this was about to affect their entire lives. It was going to be a long night, indeed.

“Coffee?” Emily suggested.

* * *

EMILY’s IMMENSE TREPIDATION for the conversation she was about to have with her girlfriend of two years was starting to manifest in her fingernail-biting quirk. Once she realized what she was doing, she hastily yanked her thumbnail away from her two front teeth with a growl of frustration and a shake of her head.

The pesky habit was one Emily had never been able to kick, and considering her ripe age of thirty, she probably never would. Her colleague, Spencer Reid, in all his intellectuality had once spouted some statistical information about why she tended to bite her nails. Something revolving around childhood trauma and self-soothing tactics. She hadn’t been listening at the time, but now a part of her wished she had. There’d been a lot to be traumatized about during Emily’s childhood, but none of it was truly trauma-worthy in her opinion. Even so, she still flinched every time she heard her mother speak.

A few minutes later, JJ returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug in each hand. Emily accepted the cup JJ offered to her and drank with gusto despite the tongue-burning temperature. She was stalling. Her girlfriend just amusedly watched her over the rim of her own cup.

“I have a son,” Emily blurted out.

JJ abruptly choked on her sip of coffee, nearly dropping the ceramic mug she was holding in her hands onto their hardwood floor. “I’m-I’m sorry?”

_Did she hear right?_

Emily’s boost of confidence wavered. Maybe ripping off the bandaid hadn’t been her brightest idea, but it was too late to take it back now.

“I have a son,” Emily iterated more firmly. Her heart was racing a million miles per minute. She felt wired.

JJ was blinking rapidly, her eyes comically wide from her girlfriend’s revelation. “I—You—You have a _son_? A kid… you-you have a _kid_.” She struggled with her words, obviously in shock.

“Yes,” Emily softly affirmed.

“But… What… _How_? More accurately, _since when_?”

“When I was fifteen.”

If JJ was scandalized by the young age, she didn’t say it, but her expression had softened significantly.

“My mother’d been posted as the _Chargée d’ Affaires_ at the U.S. Embassy in Rome. So, I ended up spending a good portion of my high school years in Italy. I met John Cooley and Matthew Benton there.”

“Your old friends.”

Emily could picture the gears turning in JJ’s brain, piecing the puzzle together in her own profiling way. She nodded. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid. It was hard to get accepted, and when you’re fifteen that’s all you want.” She swallowed the growing lump in her throat and blinked back tears. It was more painful than the time she got shot in the arm. “You’ll do almost anything.”

The brunette-haired woman could tell exactly when the realization hit because her partner’s expression went from astonished and vexed, to sympathetic and understanding in one second. “You got pregnant.”

“It was Matthew’s,” Emily said admittedly.

“And you didn’t want to get an abortion.”

“I thought about it.” Her cheeks flushed red with shame as if she had just been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. “I was absolutely terrified. I went to school, and I read the books, so I knew exactly what was going to happen. I knew the social ramifications, and I knew I wouldn’t be receiving any support from my mother if she knew I wanted to keep the baby.

“She was so mad that day, JJ. Her forehead veins were popping out so much, I swear I thought she was going to have a brain aneurysm.” Emily chuckled humorlessly at the memory and wiped one of her falling tears away with her fingertips. “She found out I went to the clinic for an ultrasound when she got the bill from her assistant. They actually thought it was for my mother, but she pieced it together fairly quickly. She pulled me aside that night and demanded to know who the father was.

“I refused to tell her, of course. But she was a smart woman, and I was a terrible liar at the time, so she still figured out Mathew was the father. Anyway, it became this huge catastrophe involving Matthew’s parents, and then, when religion became involved, it was a complete mess. My mother wanted me to get an abortion, but—“ Emily scoffed to herself, shaking her head. “I fought her harder than I ever fought her in my entire life. I absolutely refused to get an abortion and Matthew… he ran three miles all the way to my house to support me. Fighting to keep my baby alive was the only thing I did right that day.”

“Emily, I’m so sorry,” JJ said. “I hope you know that it was incredibly wrong for your mother to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. You should have had her undying support the moment she found out you were pregnant.”

“Yeah, but I suppose my mother won in the end.”

“She made you give the baby up, didn’t she?”

Emily hung her head, and JJ fought the intense urge to hug the brunette-haired woman in front of her. JJ had been with Emily long enough to know that she needed space whenever they broached heavy topics such as this one.

“She forced the both of us to sign away our parental rights after the baby was born. Said it was for the best, and well, Matthew’s parents didn’t fight it. We left Italy that same month.”

“What happened after that?” JJ prodded gently.

“Matthew and I were both devastated. I always knew I would want kids in the future, and yes, I was still a kid myself when I got pregnant, but… I’ll never forget how proud Matthew looked holding his son for the first time. He told me that day in the hospital room that he would do whatever it took to get his son back. And he did. At least that was what John Cooley told me when I met with him tonight. Matthew kept his promise.”

“Oh, Emily.” JJ mourned the doleful expression on Emily’s face. While she hated to see her so upset and vulnerable, JJ also understood that Emily had probably never gotten the chance to properly process her feelings about giving up her own child. She would let Emily have this; she needed this.

“Children and Family Services in Rome named him Adrian Augustus.” A small, forlorn smile curved Emily’s lips upwards. “He is fourteen years old. Matthew adopted him from Italy when he was ten and brought him here to D.C. Even added Benton to his last name.”

The sudden onslaught of tear that pooled in Emily’s eyes caught JJ off guard. “That was a good thing, wasn’t it?”

“Matthew’s… _dead_.” Emily’s voice cracked. “That’s why I was meeting John tonight. He thinks it might be a homicide and wants me to investigate.”

JJ’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “ _Homicide_? Are you serious?”

Emily pulled two files from her purse, each fairly thin in terms of documents and evidence. JJ scanned through them quickly, frowning when she noticed the causes of death determined by the medical examiner.

“Thomas Valentine died of dehydration, while Matthew Benton died of a heart attack. The manner of death for both of them were determined to be natural,” JJ said.

“I know, I know. You think I’m projecting too much into this, but I have a feeling, JJ. Deep in my gut. There’s something not right here. I can feel it. Matthew thought someone was trying to kill him in the days leading up to his death, and he knew about Thomas Valentine even though it wasn’t covered on the news. It can’t be a coincidence.” Emily big brown eyes were wide and pleading. She looked borderline desperate — for support or validation, JJ couldn’t tell. But if one thing was for sure, the blonde-haired agent’s trust in Emily’s judgment was immense and forever would be. If Emily fervently thought her old friend had been murdered, then JJ was ninety-nine percent certain he really had been.

JJ placed her hand on top of Emily’s, gazing into her dark brown eyes. “I have your back, Em. Always, remember?”

The blonde-haired woman pulled Emily into her as they laid back against the couch together, limbs entangled with one another. Emily kicked the excess throws to the ground and relaxed against JJ’s chest. Clasped in such a warm and loving embrace, the pair felt like all their woes were temporarily gone.

“Emily?” JJ murmured.

Emily hummed her acknowledgment.

“I’m sorry about Matthew.”

“Thank you, JJ.” They laid there, like the calm after a storm. “How are you not angry at me right now?”

“I’m not going to lie. I’m still trying to process everything you told me,” JJ admitted. “It’s just… It’s kind of surreal right now, but at the same time, everything you told me is slowly filling in the blanks. Adrian is why you were so hesitant about having kids, isn’t he?”

“Remember that case in Denver? The one with Carrie Ortiz?”

“Of course I do.”

“Sometimes, I think it was fate.”

“What was fate?”

“The fact that Carrie’s extended family from L.A. was able to take her in, and we weren’t able to. JJ, I had no business being her legal guardian. Especially not when I abandoned my own kid. I mean—how can I? How can I take in another kid, raise them as my own, and call myself a good mother when I knowingly have some other child out there! God knows if he is doing okay right now.”

“You couldn’t have known. You gave it the benefit of the doubt. For all you knew, Adrian had been happily adopted with parents who loves him as much as you and Matthew do.”

“Except he wasn’t adopted. I don’t think he ever was.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know Matthew adopted him and took him to the States. I know the only reason that is possible is because social services thought it was the only option for him. The Italian government doesn’t let singles adopt, and their rules are even more rigorous for international adoptions. The only way Matthew could have gained custody of Adrian is if the kid had no other good option.”

“Okay, but in the end, this is all just speculation. You can’t blame or beat yourself up over this, Em. You were just a teenager, and you were under a lot of pressure from your own mother to sign away your rights. Whatever happened while Adrian was in foster care isn’t your fault.”

Emily didn’t answer, so JJ just hugged her as tightly as she could and dropped a loving kiss on the top of her head. _I love you so much, Emily Prentiss. Everything will be okay, I promise._


	6. Chapter 6

EMILY WASN’T SURE what she did in her past life to deserve her BAU family. Well, whatever she did must have at least warranted a Nobel Peace Prize because her best friend, Penelope, was currently smothering the agent to death while proclaiming her love and support to her in a voice loud enough for the entire FBI office to hear, despite the massive bombshell she had just dropped out of thin air. Nobody had condemned her to hell, nobody had looked at her with the slightest bit of disgust, and Emily had almost cried tears of relief.

In typical Derek-Morgan fashion, he had wrapped Emily up in a bear hug after Penelope had finally released her. “Wow, so there’s really a little Prentiss out there. Better watch out, Pretty Boy. If Little Prentiss is anything like Princess here, he might steal your job,” he teased good-naturedly. 

Spencer rolled his eyes at him, but offered Emily his signature half-smile in response, signifying his full support for her.

David Rossi had clasped his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing in a very grandfatherly manner. He gave her a warm, understanding smile and winked. “If you ever need anything, _Bella_ , you know who to call.”

Besides JJ, whom Emily had already told, Aaron Hotchner seemed to be the least surprised out of the seven of them. How he could have possibly known was beyond her. He gave her a subtle head nod of acknowledgment. “I think you know this changes the way we are going to handle this case.”

“Hotch—“ Emily began, ready to start protesting.

“I’m not taking you off your own case, Prentiss. But if I feel you are getting too emotionally invested, I will. We still have to follow _some_ protocol.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

From across the room, Emily caught JJ’s gaze. The blonde-haired profiler had silently positioned herself off to the side so that Emily could have the floor when it was time to reveal her big secret to the rest of the team. Nothing JJ had heard was news to her since she and Emily had their talk the night before. However, there was this strange, unexplainable twinge of hurt and conflict stirring deep inside the pit of her stomach, and it was bothering the ever-living hell out of her. JJ wasn't exactly sure why it hadn't gone away; being petty wasn't her style, yet here she was.

The team of profilers seemed to catch onto the tension between the couple fairly quickly.

“Emily told me last night,” JJ said by way of explanation.

Nobody questioned her further.

* * *

AFTER SENDING EMILY and Derek to talk with the medical examiner regarding the two bodies, Hotch brought JJ with him to talk to the Bentons, while Reid and Rossi went to investigate the Valentine residence.

It took over an hour to drive across the Potomac River to Georgetown, D.C. due to the rain and lunch-hour rush. When they finally arrived at their destination, Hotch parked the SUV in front of the townhome that supposedly belonged to Tom and Andrea Benton. It never ceased to amaze JJ how increasingly average the homes she was sent to investigate seemed. At first glance, nobody would assume a person had recently died in there. Never mind the possibility of a murder.

Hotch knocked on the front door. He had to try again several times before the sound of footsteps drew closer, and the door swung open to reveal a man and a woman, both looking rather worse-for-wear.

"Can we help you?" the man asked with a frown.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner from the FBI. This is my colleague, Special Agent Jennifer Jareau. Are you Tom and Andrea Benton?"

"Yes, we are. What's this about?"

"I understand your son, Matthew Benton, recently passed?"

At the mere mention of their son, their expressions immediately darkened.

Andrea Benton folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head upwards, defensively. "Yes, he did. But I don't understand why the FBI would be interested in our son's death."

"We’re investigating another recent death under similar circumstances, and we just want to make sure that there's no connection," Hotch calmly explained.

"He suffered a heart attack.”

"It's just routine."

"Well, there's nothing routine about investigating a heart attack,” Andrea scoffed. She did not budge from the doorway until her husband placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her back.

"Andrea, it's okay." Tom looked to the agent-in-charge. "I assume your investigation is drug-related."

JJ’s eyes flickered to Hotch, but his facade remained passive. "We're just trying to rule out foul play. May we come in?" he politely asked.

Andrea let out an angry huff and stalked away. Tom just sighed. "Of course," he relented.

They were hit by a strong scent of sage as soon as they reached Matthew's bedroom.

"Do you mind me asking if you've been burning incense?" Hotch questioned.

"After Matthew died, I burned some in the room... to cleanse it," Andrea said tersely.

"So, he was living here with you?" JJ asked.

"No," Tom answered in a flat tone. "He had a home in Anacostia where he lived... with his son. But they would visit from time to time."

While Hotch continued to speak with Mathew Benton’s parents, JJ examined the room. White scuff marks, in particular, beneath the legs of the bed frame, caught her eye. The marks were only a few inches long, but they dug deep into the hardwood and were abundant like someone had forced the bed to move to and fro numerous times. JJ frowned and glanced up at her unit chief to see if he noticed them too. He did, so JJ moved on, taking in the copious number of religious paraphernalia laying around the room. She counted at least four crosses and two paintings of Christ and Mary hanging on the walls. A small wooden rosary was set in the middle of the bedspread. On the nightstand, a candle burned brightly next to a Bible.

When she returned to her spot a little ways behind Hotch, she swore she caught a glimpse of a shadow darting across the hallway in the edge of her peripheral. She did a double-take, stepping slightly away from the doorframe to peek down the corridor. The lights from the bedroom and living room did not quite reach to the last two rooms of the house, but JJ could still make out a partial figure hovering in the doorway closest to them.

The lack of light made it hard to see, but they were short and slim in physique, probably no more than 5’4” or 5’5”. It was very obvious that they were Caucasian and had dark hair and dark-colored eyes.

While the Bentons were distracted by Hotch's inquiries, JJ slipped away, inching closer to the shadow. She was pleasantly surprised when they made no effort to hide, instead, stepping into the light.

JJ had read through Matthew Benton’s case file thoroughly before arriving at the Benton residence with Hotch — plus she’d had that discussion with Emily — so she already had a strong inkling of who this mystery person could be. Nevertheless, to see Emily's son with her own eyes was enough to stun JJ into silence.

With very few disparities, Adrian Augustus Benton looked every way just like his biological mother. The first thing JJ noticed was the jarringly similar shade of brown in his eyes. He had Emily’s strong jawline and cheekbones. His nose was bit smaller and flatter, but his mouth seemed to be the same shape as well. JJ was convinced that if he smiled, his similarity to Emily would be the most uncanny. Overall, he was a rather handsome young man despite his developing age. However, it was also obvious that the last few days had not been kind if the dark circles beneath the boy's eyes and his slouching frame were any indications.

“Hi there,” JJ said softly. She wondered why Tom and Andrea had neglected to introduce them to Matthew’s son, but then again, she had her suspicions about that too. “I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau with the FBI, but you can call me JJ. You must be Adrian.”

The boy shuffled closer, clearly wary of the agent's intentions, but he stuck out a hand for JJ to shake regardless. She smiled and returned the gesture.

“Guess the rumors are true and the FBI _does_ know everything,” Adrian finally said. JJ found his faint but recognizable Italian lilt charming and couldn't help but smile at his wry humor.

“Just the basics.”

“I heard you’re investigating my dad’s death.”

“It’s just routine. We want to make sure there was no foul play involved,” JJ assured, using Hotch's previous words. She felt uneasy stretching the truth, but it was necessary. She wasn't about to tell him they were investigating only as a favor to a... _friend_.

Adrian’s expression dimmed. His brows furrowed, and he almost looked pained. “What if there was... _foul play_?"

For a fleeting moment, JJ deliberated the chances of the boy knowing more than he was leading on. “Well—“ she began.

“Adrian!” The scathing voice of Andrea Benton cut through their conversation. "I thought I told you to stay in your room?"

If JJ hadn't been a trained profiler, then she would have missed the near-imperceptible flash of fear that made Adrian's face drop. She didn't miss it, however, even when the fear vanished as soon as it appeared. The boy's expression then hardened with the most seething glare she had seen all day. It rivaled Emily’s, and that woman could frighten even their toughest UNSUBs.

JJ exchanged an apprehensive look with Hotch who seemed to be evaluating the situation with his own keen eyes.

"What? Am I not allowed to use the bathroom now?" Adrian countered with hostility.

Andrea ignored the comment as she directed her piercing gaze towards the blonde-haired agent. “We didn’t give you permission to talk to him, Agent Jareau.”

“You don’t need to yell at her. It wasn’t her fault.” The boy glowered as he folded his arms across his chest.

JJ was surprised by the sudden pang of warmth she felt in her heart from the defensive comment.

Hotch smoothly intervened before the situation could escalate. “I apologize, Mrs. Benton. We didn’t mean to intrude. We were simply concerned about the fact that the days leading up to your son’s death, Matthew thought someone was trying to kill him.”

Adrian's features paled, and he tore his gaze away from the scrutinizing eyes of the two FBI agents.

“Who told you that?” Tom questioned, alarmed.

“One of our team members. Agent Prentiss?” JJ said.

Adrian’s eyes lifted briefly at the name, his aggrieved demeanor softening significantly as he peered at the two profilers with awe.

“Emily Prentiss?” Andrea asked icily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

"She's the reason you're here?" Tom exclaimed, exchanging a meaningful glance with his wife. 

“We’d like both of you to leave," Andrea suddenly demanded, then turning to her grandson, "Adrian, go back to your room. You are _grounded_ , remember?”

“Yeah, sure,” he retorted sarcastically. The boy slunk back to his bedroom at his grandmother's behest, but not before giving JJ a sad, wistful frown. His body disappeared around the corner and the wooden door closed behind him.

“Please, leave. _Now_ ," Andrea demanded once more.

Hotch looked disturbed, but giving JJ a subtle nod, they exited the Benton residence. They hunched through the rain and headed towards the black SUV parked at the curb. Just as JJ was about to open the door, she heard the faint squeak of a creaky gate being unlatched.

“Agents?” a quiet voice inquired.

JJ turned around as Hotch walked back to her side. They both ignored the fact that they were getting drenched by the rain as they were approached by the Benton’s grandson. The boy didn't appear bothered by the fact that he was woefully underdressed against the downpour either. He was clutching a black messenger bag to his chest. 

“Are you really FBI?” Adrian asked them.

“We are,” Hotch confirmed. He pulled out his badge, flashing it to the boy for proof. Adrian scrutinized the billfold until he seemed satisfied that they were truly who they had said they were.

“You work with Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, right?”

JJ raised an eyebrow at the particular jargon. “Yes, we do.”

“My dad... he used to tell me stories about his childhood, and I guess she meant a lot to him because he made me promise I'd give this to her." Adrian pulled a thick manila envelope out of his bag and offered it to the blonde-haired agent, hesitantly. "My grandparents caught me trying to sneak out the other day and I can’t go anywhere anymore… but Agent Prentiss… she… I guess what I’m trying to say is, can you make sure she gets this?"

JJ understood the underlying meaning of his words. Emily _needed_ to have this envelope. Adrian's hopeful plea was undeniable. Saying no to Adrian felt like it would be the same as saying no to a thousand Emilys, and JJ had always been a sucker for Emily's puppy-dog eyes. This boy's charitable innocence was a thousand times worse even if he didn't know it yet. 

“Of course I can,” JJ readily agreed.

The relief that flooded over Adrian was palpable. “Do you promise? It’s just—my dad made me _promise_ him before he… you know.”

JJ’s expression grew soft with empathy. “I swear to you, Adrian, Agent Prentiss will get this. Even if I have to crawl across a desert on my hands and knees to deliver it to her.”

This seemed to appease him because he nodded with the smallest lopsided smile before taking a step back towards the house. “Agent Jareau? I think you were right earlier… about my dad's death being foul play."

JJ’s eyebrows raised in concern, but Hotch remained calm. “What makes you so sure about that?” he inquired.

Adrian glanced back at the house once more. “Because… my dad was acting strangely the past week. He told me he was setting up his will for if anything were to happen to him. He was only thirty years old, you know? And well, he made me promise to deliver that envelope to Agent Prentiss, even though I don’t know her. He said she’d know what to do with it. It was like he knew something was going to happen to him, and he was trying to prepare for the worst.” Adrian opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but suddenly one of the lights in the house flickered off, and his confidence was replaced with panic. “I'm-I'm sorry. I need to go.”

Hotch was sympathetic and, after handing him one of his business cards, sent him on his way. The boy jogged back through the gate and disappeared.

Meanwhile, JJ and Hotch ducked back into the car, escaping the rain that had soaked their clothes from top to bottom. Hotch turned the ignition and blasted the heater to dry them off. He turned to the blonde-haired agent, who was gazing at the envelope with intense concentration. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“He looks like Emily,” JJ mumbled. There was a far-away look in her eyes.

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Well, you are right about that, but I was talking more so about the case… _JJ._ ”

“What?”

“What do you think about the case?” Hotch patiently repeated.

JJ sighed tiredly. “I don’t think Andrea and Tom are telling us everything. I mean—Did you see how Adrian looked at them? It was like they were the bane of his existence. Even I didn’t look at my mother that way, and I despised her at that age."

Hotch nodded in agreement. “It’s something worth looking into. The boy knows more than he’s letting on, but we haven’t been invited in by the locals, and the Bentons are refusing to cooperate. We’ll know more once Rossi and Reid return from the Valentine residence.”

“So we do nothing in the meantime?”

“There’s nothing we _can_ do. There’s no strong physical or medical evidence to tie Thomas Valentine’s death to Matthew Benton’s. Even if we believe another, we have to follow the law on this, JJ.”

JJ huffed and stared out the window. “I hate our job sometimes.”

“I know,” Hotch said as he drove them back to the BAU headquarters in Quantico.

* * *

“So… Adrian, huh?” Derek mentioned nonchalantly as he drove Emily and himself back to the BAU after having met with the local medical examiner.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “That _is_ his name.”

“Are you going to… you know… try to get custody of the kid?”

Emily shrugged. “As far as laws go, Matthew’s parents would be the next of kin. And well, I don’t actually know how JJ would feel about me raising a teenager all of a sudden.”

“I thought you two talked it out?”

“We didn’t exactly get around to discussing our next course of action.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “ _Oh_. Okay.”

“ _Not like that_ ,” Emily exclaimed with exasperation. Derek chuckled. “We were up until three in the morning talking. After that long case we had, we were both exhausted. So, we fell asleep on the couch before we could talk anymore.”

“JJ doesn’t strike me as someone who wouldn’t understand.”

“She _does_ understand. Maybe a little too well.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t angry last night. She didn’t yell. I mean—she was definitely shocked, but I expected… a lot more.”

Derek laughed at Emily's apprehension for the blonde-haired woman. “I think this is the part where you bring her flowers and an award for being the best girlfriend. Maybe she just needs some time to let all this sink in, you know? You dropped a big bombshell on her, after all. I don't have to be a profiler to know she is head over heels for you, Princess."

* * *

ENTERING THE BULLPEN, Emily was greeted with the sight of her partner sitting on top of her desk, a large manila envelope on her lap. She seemed lost in thought and did not realize Emily was there until she was mere feet away. JJ startled, her bright blue eyes meeting beautiful brown ones.

“I methim..." JJ informed her in a hushed voice.

Emily could not be surprised if she wanted to. She knew the inevitability; hell, she was the one who insisted JJ go in place of her. The brunette-haired profiler knew she wouldn't have been able to hold it together long enough to be professional if she had gone.

“Oh," Emily uttered softly.

“He’s a sweet kid. Though, the resemblance is rather… uncanny."

Emily nodded and gnawed at her thumbnail anxiously. _Why was her mouth so dry all of a sudden?_

“Your gut feeling was right. Hotch and I think there is something off. We’re not sure exactly what because Tom and Andrea hadn't exactly been very cooperative. Adrian knows something but… Matthew’s parents wouldn’t let us talk to him.”

Emily nodded again. Her lips were turned downward in a troubled frown.

“Adrian said Matthew made him promise to give this to you. Said you’d know what to do with it. They wouldn't let him leave the house, so he asked me to deliver it to you.”

Emily stared at the envelope like it was made of poison. Regardless, she snatched it up and tucked it away in one of her desk drawers. _Out of sight, out of mind_.

“I’ll-um… I’ll look into it later," Emily promised.

JJ nodded with a tilt of her head. “Alright."

“JJ, I—“ Emily wanted to say more, but then Hotch was calling for JJ, and that was the end of that. JJ looked slightly apologetic as she stood up and headed towards the Unit Chief's office.


	7. Chapter 7

WHEN ADRIAN WAS ten years old and emigrated from Italy to the United States with his father, he’d been far from mourning.

The boy had never been more jubilant to leave his troubled past behind him and start anew in the land of the free than he was when he was ten years old. Bruised and battered from his recent time in a boy’s group home, Adrian had soldiered on through the populated Leonardo da Vinci—Fiumicino airport with a fractured wrist, black eye, and split lip that had earned him sideways glances from security and passengers alike. Of course, he was no naive child, and as soon as he had stepped foot on American soil, he was as vigilant as ever. It had taken him weeks before he finally started to open up to Matthew and even longer still to completely trust his new adoptive — biological — father.

Matthew had been patient and doted on him every way possible. Even when he had his own problems to deal with, Matthew’s love for his son had never wavered. He had made certain the ten-year-old boy knew the ways of American customs and cuisine and that he understood the pop-culture references his classmates would make.

The local movie theatre had been a frequent hotspot for the two of them as had the coffee shop around the corner from Matthew’s townhome in Anacostia. Adrian had rapidly acculturated to his new home and picked up the English language quite gracefully. Perhaps the only real bump in the road had been Matthew’s parents, or in a technical-sense, Adrian’s grandparents.

Tom and Andrea Benton had never been fans of Matthew’s troubled past in Italy. They were even worse fans of Matthew’s past friends, in particular, a certain brunette-haired individual who was now working for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. They had forbidden Matthew from even uttering the Prentiss name. So, it could be reasonably said that Tom and Andrea were definitely _not_ expecting their son to mysteriously show up on their doorstep with their _grandson_ — _Emily’s biological son_ — standing beside him.

Tom had been dumbfounded. Andrea had nearly fainted right then and there.

_“Matthew?” Tom Benton opened the front door, expecting the usual salesman or deliveryman on their doorstep, but instead received a surprise in the form of his grown son — and company. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you had work today? And—” Tom’s gaze touched on the young fellow standing by Matthew’s side. He couldn’t have been older than a middle schooler at best and was sporting quite the interesting appearance. “Who’s this?”_

_Before Matthew could answer, Andrea Benton’s voice cut through from somewhere inside the house. “Tom? Who’s at the door?” She appeared at the doorway then, a pleasant smile stretching across her face when she saw her son. “Matthew! We weren’t expecting you today.” Her smile wavered when she saw the mysterious boy by her son’s side. “What’s going on?” she questioned._

_“We were just getting to that, honey,” Tom reassured._

_Matthew wrapped an arm around the boy, pulling him close. There was something about their son’s body language that made them nervous. Andrea exchanged glances with Tom, worry flickering across her features. “Mom. Dad. I’d like you to meet Adrian Augustus Benton. My son,” he announced proudly._

_Tom and Andrea were left speechless by the declaration. Blanched and slack-jawed, they stood frozen in the foyer trying to wrap their minds around the fact that their son… well, now had a son._

_“Matthew,” Andrea breathed out in a dangerously low tone. “What have you done?”_

_Tom snapped out of his stupor long enough to usher the pair inside away from any wandering eyes. The moment the front door clicked shut, Andrea went off on her grown son._

_“How could you do this? You’re only thirty years old! You can’t raise a child! You can hardly take care of yourself!” Andrea scolded._

_“Andrea, please,” Tom said exasperatedly, placing a hand on her shoulder._

_She shrugged it off angrily. “Where did you even find this boy? He looks like he lost a street fight!”_

_The young boy narrowed his eyes at the woman who was harshly reprimanding his adoptive father. “With all due respect, ma’am, it wasn’t a street fight. My foster brother wanted to kill me, but I obviously won,” he retorted._

_Tom appeared alarmed, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. Matthew bit his lower lip to keep from laughing at his son’s snarky attitude as he was accustomed to it and knew it was merely a defense mechanism. Andrea just blinked in shock, staring at the boy, absolutely repulsed. She could recognize that familiar accent anywhere, and it made her enraged._

_“Matthew,” she said her son’s name warningly._

_Matthew sighed. “Mom. Dad. Kitchen? Please?” he requested, ushering both his parents into the next room. “I’ll be right back, bud.” He gave Adrian a smile and wink before closing the sliding door behind him._

_“I don’t believe you, Matthew Benton. How could you do such a thing?” Andrea chastised._

_“No, I don’t believe you! How could you say those things about Adrian in front of his face?”_

_“Young man, I would tread carefully here. I may not have explicitly said it, but I agree with your mother. I don’t think you’re equipped to handle a child, Matthew. Especially not…” Tom sighed, shaking his head._

_“Emily’s?” Matthew finished, challengingly. “You never liked her. Either of you.”_

_“That girl manipulated you, Matthew. Made you a father at fifteen instead of getting an abortion as her mother wanted her to! She was nothing but trouble!” Andrea hissed._

_“You forget we both signed away our rights, so technically, I was never a father to my own son. You both took that away from me,” Matthew countered. “Besides, I’m not asking for permission or approval. Adrian’s adoption is finalized. He is my son whether you like it or not. I’m only here as a courtesy.”_

_Andrea let out a huff of frustration, running her hands through wild red hair. Tom exhaled tiredly as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. He was shaking his head in disappointment. Matthew had had enough and, unlike when he was fifteen years old, stood his ground._

_“Adrian is your grandson. It’s been ten years for crying out loud. If you won’t accept my son, then you will never see me or him again.”_

The threat of cutting ties forever had forced Tom and Andrea to rethink their actions. Their tolerance for the boy had been minimal at best, but Adrian couldn’t have cared less. The ten-year-old at the time had made plenty of enemies during his stint in the Italian foster system, and Tom and Andrea were just two more. Matthew was considerate, though, and would only bring Adrian to his grandparent’s house twice a year, once for Thanksgiving and once for Christmas. His father had always been unselfish that way.

However, last Friday had been a special circumstance. When his father had gotten off the phone, their plans to settle in for the night had changed. Whatever had been said had been enough to warrant his father to grab his car keys and coat from the foyer.

_“Dad?” Fourteen-year-old Adrian stood up from the couch they had been lounging on with furrowed eyebrows and a downturned mouth. “Did something happen?”_

_“No, everything’s alright,” his father said._

_“But… you’re leaving at nine o’clock at night?”_

_“Your grandparents called. There’s something urgent they want to discuss with me.”_

_“But now? It’s storming outside,” Adrian protested. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of his father driving out there in the darkness and rain. He grew even more anxious because whenever his grandparents were involved, it never merited good news. “I can go with you.”_

_“You don’t even like your grandparent’s house,” Matthew said with an amused chuckled. “You’d be bored to tears, bud.”_

_“But what if something happens to you?” Adrian shot back unsettled. He just couldn’t shake the awful feeling. No reasonable parent would just ask their son to drive in this terrible weather, especially not this late at night._

_“I’m sure it’s just nothing, and I’ll be back before you know it. You know what? I’ll even drive below the speed limit,” his father reassured, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair with a smile._

_“Legally, you would have to anyway,” Adrian deadpanned._

_His father laughed heartily. “Sounds like I won’t have any worries about you passing your driver’s test in a few years then. I’ll see you in a little bit, kiddo. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m away.”_

_Before Adrian could protest any more, his father was already out the front door. Adrian chewed his inner cheek with a worried expression on his face as he listened to the car start up and drive away from the curb. And then, his father was gone._

Matthew never returned home that night. His red SUV never drove back up the street. Instead, Adrian had been greeted at the door by a flood of red and blue lights, two solemn-appearing rookie officers, and a bright white police cruiser parked haphazardly on the curb. They had driven him back to his grandparent’s house, _for his safety_ they had said, but they might as well have just thrown him in the slammer because now, Adrian was stuck in a house where he was despised and didn’t belong.

His father had been right about one thing; Adrian hated his grandparent’s house. It wasn’t home, and the amount of religious paraphernalia hanging on his bedroom walls was bordering on obsessive, probably even extreme. However, considering the fact that they would look at him like he was the Devil’s incarnate, it seemed only fitting, right?

Only one day had passed after first meeting Special Agents Hotchner and Jareau. Adrian woke up from his restless slumber the next morning and was immediately greeted with a painting of the Virgin Mary tacked on the wall opposite his bed. Rolling his eyes with an exasperated groan, he turned over and covered his face with both arms.

 _As if you could cleanse my sins_.

“Adrian! Breakfast! You best not make me tell you again, young man!” The grating voice of his grandmother carried down the hall and into his room. Wincing, the fourteen-year-old boy rolled out of bed and stumbled to the dresser. He grabbed the first sweater and pants he could find and haphazardly pulled them on whilst on his way to the dining room.

His grandparents were still bustling about in the kitchen when he arrived. The table had been set for three, two at the end facing each other and one setting at the very head of the table furthest away from them. A pitcher of orange juice and a bowl of cut-up fruit had been placed in the center. Adrian took his place at the head of the table, staring longingly at the chair his father used to occupy.

It hadn’t always been this way. Seeing as the table could comfortably seat six people, four in the middle and one at each end, he and his father used to sit together on one side with Tom and Andrea on the other. Now it had switched to Tom and Andrea facing each other with Adrian sitting as far away as possible at the opposite head of the table. Anyone with half a mind could understand the implications.

Tom and Andrea soon returned from the kitchen with bowls of oatmeal. Adrian could recognize the signature Quaker scent. Andrea wordlessly placed a bowl in front of him. He waited for the couple to say grace before tucking in. It tasted like the bland slop his group home back in Rome used to serve. The dining room remained silent save for the clinks of metal silverware against glass bowls.

Adrian was nearly finished when Andrea suddenly spoke. “We have a guest stopping by tomorrow night. You’ll treat him with respect, won’t you?”

Adrian paused, staring at the last spoonful of oatmeal he was about to eat. Glancing up, he was met with his grandparents’ matching glowers. _A guest, huh?_ The boy ignored the way his body froze up, ignored the way the sense-tingling hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.

“Yes… _ma’am_ ,” he begrudgingly replied. He let the utensil fall back into the bowl with a loud _clang_ , the last spoonful remaining uneaten.


	8. Chapter 8

EMILY SAT IN her office chair, furiously juggling a pen between her fingers as she contemplated the manila envelope lying unopened in her desk.

Gnawing on a thumbnail, she dropped the pen, pulled open the top drawer, and stared into it for a long moment. Her hand hovered overhead before she yanked it back at the last second and shut the drawer once more. It slammed with an unusually loud _bang_ , earning a few curious glances from fellow agents lingering in the bullpen. Emily gave them each a glare aggressive enough to force them to hurry along. From behind her, Derek’s amused snort made her spin around.

“ _What_?” Emily asked with downturned lips and furrowed brows.

Derek raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, you don’t need to bite _my_ head off. Save it for the rookies. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. It couldn’t have been easy, seeing Matthew like that.”

Emily’s eyes flickered to her desk drawer. “I’m fine.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later.”

“Guys, conference room in five,” JJ’s voice called out to them. They caught a wisp of her blonde hair disappearing behind the door upstairs.

“Guess that’s our cue then, huh Princess?”

“I guess so.” Emily sighed.

Five minutes later, the BAU was gathered around the table in the conference room upstairs. Splayed on the monitors were the autopsy photos of both Thomas Valentine and Matthew Benton.

Emily trained her gaze on the smooth flat surface of the table, unable to bring herself to look at them for just one more second. She felt sick and heavy with the guilt of Matthew’s dead photo being floated around the office. True, her BAU family was only trying to help her investigate, but that didn’t make it any less difficult.

Matthew deserved his peace.

Once everyone was situated, Rossi began the debrief with what he and Spencer had observed at the Valentine’s residence.

“We saw scuff marks underneath Thomas Valentine’s bed, almost as if someone had been tied up and struggled to get free,” the senior agent said.

“We saw the exact same marks in Matthew’s bedroom,” JJ added.

“Has anyone been able to find any connection at all between Benton and Valentine?” Hotch asked the group.

“Well, according to my snooping, Matthew Benton purchased two tickets to Galicia, Spain four months ago. Thomas Valentine also purchased a ticket with the same flight number and destination as Matthew Benton,” Penelope said.

“Does Galicia, Spain mean anything to you?” Derek directed his question at the brunette-haired agent who was shaking her head, perplexed.

“I did the quick guidebook thing. There’s a church there, Santiago De Compostela. It’s visited by over a hundred thousand religious pilgrims every year,” Penelope informed them.

“Did his parents say anything about him going on pilgrimage?” Spencer asked.

“No, the opposite, actually. His mom said his soul was possessed by _evil_.” JJ grimaced as the words left her lips, obviously disturbed by the particular description.

Emily sighed at the revelation. “Yeah,” she mumbled.

“What?” JJ asked, frowning.

“Matthew had a thing about challenging the church. He could… push it,” Emily explained with some reluctance. “When we were in high school, his mom and dad consulted a priest because they were afraid he was possessed.”

“But I think in this case she was talking about drugs,” Hotch reflected with a frown.

“Are you sure? There’s a pattern here. The talk about evil and the soul and scuff marks on the floor…” Rossi trailed off.

The wrinkle lines on Hotch’s forehead deepened. “What are you driving at?”

“Well, drug addiction and schizophrenia are two afflictions most likely to present as demonic possession,” Rossi offered as an explanation.

“You think these were _exorcisms_?” Derek looked unsettled.

Rossi shrugged, but it was fairly evident to the team that he was very much convinced. “I think it begs the question.”

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there’s nothing more open to behavioral interpretation than religion,” Derek began.

“Meaning what?” Emily proposed.

“I think it’s dangerous for us to want to find a connection between these two deaths,” Derek stated simply.

“Wait—“ Emily paused as if coming to a realization. “Was Thomas’ wife religious?”

“She was concerned that he had been cursing God,” Rossi remarked.

“Exorcism ritual can take days to complete. It’s possible the stress induced could cause a heart attack, especially in someone with a history of drug use,” Spencer mentioned.

“Well, that would explain the timeline of someone dying from dehydration,” JJ commented.

“Guys, look, I’m willing to say that we might have an UNSUB who ritualizes killings as if they were exorcisms. _Maybe_. But right now, we don’t even know if we have a crime yet,” Derek said with some disinclination.

“Morgan’s right. We need to step back. Did the kid say anything useful?” Rossi asked.

“Only that Matthew was acting weirder than usual and that it was almost like he knew something bad was going to happen,” JJ said. “But Adrian seemed adamant that his father’s death was foul play. I think he was going to say more, but he was afraid his grandparents would find out and left before he could say anything more.”

Rossi appeared thoughtful, rising from his seat. “Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories.”

* * *

NOT TWENTY-FOUR hours later and Penelope was able to track down another recently deceased person by the name of Patrick Cavanaugh. His name had been flagged as another person who had gone to Galicia, Spain the same week as Thomas Valentine and Matthew Benton had. However, this time around, the cause of death had been determined to be a brain aneurysm.

“This is kind of starting to freak me out a little,” Spencer admitted as he took in the numerous white scuff marks beneath the legs of the bed frame.

Derek entered behind him, taking in the room with skeptical eyes. “Let’s figure out if we have a crime before we start freaking out,” he said.

Emily scoffed, giving her partner an incredulous stare. “Obviously, we have a crime.”

“Prentiss, how does an UNSUB induce an aneurysm?” Derek countered.

“Uh, it could be caused by stress,” Spencer offered.

“Yeah, kind of like if you were restrained on a bed while someone tried to banish the Devil from your body,” Emily deadpanned.

Derek sighed. “All I’m saying is I think we should go easy.”

Right after Derek spoke, a woman appeared at the doorway of Patrick Cavanaugh’s bedroom. Her piercing, dark eyes darted to each of the agents, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“We’re with the FBI. We’re investigating a series of unexplained deaths,” Spencer stated professionally.

“I don’t understand,” the woman uttered, suddenly bewildered and uncomfortable.

“Had Patrick been acting erratically lately?” Emily asked.

The woman folded her arms tightly across her person. “He had a brain condition. He was getting headaches. Wasn’t acting like himself.”

“Were you aware of a trip he took recently to Galicia, Spain?” Emily inquired.

“There’s a church called Santiago de Compostela. We think he may have visited,” Spencer added.

“My fiancée traveled a lot for work. I don’t know everywhere he went.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think you’re telling us the truth,” Emily stated bluntly. Derek and Spencer turned to their colleague in apparent surprise at her bold accusation.

The woman’s expression turned dark, her jaw dropping a fraction. “ _Excuse me_?”

Emily studied the woman’s expression and body language intensely as she stepped forward. “Did you believe Patrick was possessed?”

“I’d like some privacy, please,” the woman demanded, outraged.

“Was someone trying to rid him of demons?” Emily pushed. “Is that how he died?”

“No!”

At this point, Emily was mere inches from the woman’s face. The special agent knew she was treading dangerous waters, but the greater part of her didn’t care. None of this was adding up, and she was adamant this woman had something to do with her fiancée’s death. She couldn’t even say Patrick’s name.

“You really believe he had a brain condition?”

“ _Emily_!” Derek hissed in warning, unwilling to believe how unprofessional his friend and partner was acting at this moment.

“You need to go now,” the woman demanded.

Emily remained undeterred and spit out another threat through clenched teeth. “If you sanctioned an exorcism and he died, I can press to make you an accessory to murder.”

“ _Emily_ , _that’s enough_.” Derek yanked Emily back by the arm before she could do something to really lose her badge and gun. “Stop it. Let’s go.”

Emily scoffed under her breath and stalked out of the room. Spencer shot Derek a weary look before following the her out.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Derek said to the woman. Her lips twitched with anger as she motioned to the door, and he took his cue to leave, praying they didn’t just all get fired for harassing a victim’s fiancée.

* * *

SSA AARON HOTCHNER stood in his office, staring out through the blinds into the BAU bullpen, where one of his most respected agents was currently sitting at her desk, fervently flipping through a pile of papers.

He was concerned, and even that was a bit of an understatement. To find out that Emily had a son when she’d only been fifteen years old had been a startling discovery but not more so than the fact that Ambassador Prentiss had been the one to make her sign away her parental rights and leave the child to the Italian foster system. Now, _that_ had been unsettling to learn, and Hotch found himself unable to see the U.S. Ambassador in the same light as before.

Still, it wasn’t Emily’s unruly past that bothered him.

All things aside, Special Agent Prentiss was one of the damn best agents he has ever had the pleasure of working with. She was a colleague, a member of his team, a friend, and in extension, family. He would do whatever he needed for his team, their families included. But with how emotionally invested Emily was becoming in an unofficial — and not to mention conflict of interest — case, Aaron Hotchner was afraid he wouldn’t be able to protect her this time around.

“I can see those gears turning in that mind of yours,” Rossi commented, breaking the tense silence. The older man was sitting in one of the chairs opposite Hotch’s desk while they waited for JJ and Penelope to return with, hopefully, good news.

“I’m worried about Prentiss.”

“It can’t be easy for _anyone_ to learn their friend has died.” The _amongst other things_ went unsaid.

“She’s too close to this, Dave. I just received a complaint from Patrick Cavanaugh’s fiancée. Hopefully, JJ can smooth things over with D.C. police, but next time we won’t be as lucky. She’s fortunate to not have lost her badge with the stunt she pulled.”

Rossi mulled this information over, silently bobbing his head in agreement. “Grief is a powerful emotion. It can make us see things where there’s not. Add in a child and a mother’s desperation takes over.”

“Do _you_ think I made a mistake letting Prentiss investigate?”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? Did Strauss say something?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s still early.”

“You of all people should know this can get ugly fast.”

“I do, and I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes. But this is Prentiss we’re talking about. I trust her judgment. Don’t you?”

Before Hotch could say anything more, JJ strolled through the open doorway looking displeased. “As far as the police are concerned, there is no open murder investigation. We have no reason to be investigating if they’re not,” JJ informed the duo.

“Well, they’re right,” Hotch replied, unsurprised by the news. “All we have are three men who died in three very different natural deaths.”

“So, we just drop it?” Rossi asked, incredulous.

“Dave, do you really believe we’re dealing with someone trying to exorcise demons?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Rossi exclaimed. “Possession? Mental illness? Exorcist? UNSUB? Who cares what’s true? People are dying. This isn’t about religion. It’s about evil. We attack it with analysis and diligence. For this UNSUB, it’s a fight to the death.”

JJ nodded her head in agreement.

Hotch sighed.

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion.

“All hail the mistress of information,” Penelope announced cheerfully.

“You got something?” JJ perked up.

“You know I do!” The technical analyst handed over a file. “It’s a posting from a web bulletin board by Matthew Benton to create a support group for people who felt betrayed by their faith.”

“Well, that helps explain how these three men came together,” Hotch said.

“It gets better. The week the three of them were in Spain, the services at Santiago De Compostela were canceled when the priest there died,” Penelope added.

“Died how?” Rossi inquired as he crossed one leg over the other and rubbed his chin in deep contemplation.

“Heart attack. But if you listen to the conspiracy chatter, there is a strong belief he was killed to interrupt services during the height of the pilgrimage.”

The frown on JJ’s face deepened. “How?”

“Well, their best guess is some kind of gas, sarin or VX, something that wouldn’t show up in an autopsy. But it could be anything that would induce stress, cause a heart attack,” the technical analyst explained.

“Then, we have a motive,” JJ stated, almost defiantly.

“And a potential M.O. An eye for an eye,” Rossi chimed in with an equally stubborn demeanor.

“Without an invitation from the police, I cannot authorize an investigation…” Hotch stared at the two members of his team, knowing exactly what they were up to. The compassion he had for his team was his biggest weakness, his fatal flaw per se. Sometimes, he wondered if it was _too_ obvious. Regardless, their subtle persuasion had worked. He just hoped they also knew their payroll was beyond him.

“This has to be kept _quiet_ …”


	9. Chapter 9

THE UNSUB THAT the BAU was searching for was most likely obsessed with Father Raul Del Toro’s death in Galicia, Spain. He would have been under the delusion that he is fighting evil and that the orders were coming from God himself. Chances were that the UNSUB had followed the three men back to Washington D.C. under the impression that they were murderers and had performed exorcisms on them in order to “save” them.

Emily stood with her colleagues, Spencer Reid and David Rossi, as they gave their profile to the local clergymen.

Giving the profile had been easy. Getting the local clergymen to actually cooperate had been the difficult part. Exorcisms were highly controversial and a sensitive subject in the world of religion. But it wasn’t like they could give their usual profile to the local police force either. Not only were they violating protocol by investigating this case without a formal invitation in the first place, but the subject at hand wasn’t about to garner any urgency from the locals anyway. They would have been laughed away only to be chewed out by Bureau Chief Strauss later.

Fortunately, it was Rossi’s friend, Father Jimmy Davidson, who had given them the break in the case that they desperately needed. The Father had not been as skeptical or skittish around the nature of demonology and exorcisms as the local clergymen had been, and he had been able to determine that the UNSUB would have needed medical care if he performed three exorcisms in such a short time span. Apparently, it was both physically and spiritually draining, and nothing short of a working hospital would have been considered safe.

With Penelope’s assistance, they were able to track the UNSUB down to St. Agatha’s Hospital in Georgetown, where he was currently in admission for exhaustion.

“We got him,” Spencer confirmed, snapping his cell phone shut. Emily’s head whipped around to look at him, expectantly.

_Father Paul Silvano, room 214._

In an unspoken agreement, the three federal agents jumped into the SUV and sped off, wheels screeching against the asphalt. Fifteen minutes later, Rossi pulled to the front of the hospital where the trio bypassed the lobby check-in and took the elevator straight to the second floor. Emily was a bundle of hyperactive nerves waiting for their stop, and her hands were practically itching to cuff the _son of a bitch_ responsible for the deaths of three innocent men, one of which had been her friend. The last time she had been this anxious to collar an UNSUB was probably that narcissistic serial killer, Henry Grace, though she supposed all their cases were relatively bad. And Emily just _knew_ it was bad whenever she couldn’t find any semblance of sympathy in her heart for the UNSUB, not even the tiniest atomic smidgen.

Rossi and Prentiss strode into the room first, Reid following close behind. The only occupant was a man, who was standing near the edge of the bed with his back to them, busily folding clothes into a bag. He was of average height and build with short graying hair. There was nothing special about him save for the black cassock that signified his status as a priest.

“Are you Father Paul Silvano?” Rossi’s questioned as he and Emily flashed their FBI badges.

The man paused briefly before resuming his menial task, not even sparing a glance. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Were you present at the deaths of Thomas Valentine, Matthew Benton, and Patrick Cavanaugh?”

Father Paul Silvano turned around, his dark eyes gazing intensely at the brunette-haired woman he had heard so much about. “I’ve been expecting you,” he stated in the same calm tone as before.

Caught off guard by the comment, Emily felt her jaw drop. “He asked you a question,” she snapped. Her irritation masked the slight tremble in her voice.

Father Paul seemed to relax even further into his stance, unbothered and perhaps even a little smug. “Yes, I was present.”

Satisfied that the Father had definitely just implicated himself, Emily removed the handcuffs from her back pocket. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—“

“ _Look in the nightstand drawer_ ,” Father Paul interrupted, speaking in fluent Italian.

She paused in response, her eyebrows knitting together tightly. The tension in the room was suddenly palpable.

“What did he say?” Spencer asked with a frown.

“He wants you to look in the drawer,” Emily replied, eyeing the Father with suspicion as Spencer opened the drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper.

“We’re both fighting the same evil,” Father Paul insisted.

Emily ignored him in favor of Spencer. “What is it?”

Spencer’s frown only deepened, and he met Emily’s questioning gaze with a troubled one. “It’s diplomatic status.”

“He has _immunity_?”

The Father’s smirk said it all.

* * *

THE INTERROGATION ROOM back at Quantico was always kept at a cool 68 degrees Fahrenheit. There was only ever one single light on, the table wobbled sometimes, _and_ the chairs were notoriously butt-numbing. But for the injustices that she _knew_ this man had committed, she was willing to freeze and be unable to sit for hours later to get that confession.

“Explain to me why you were the last person in the room when three men died,” Emily demanded.

“I’m a priest. I was there for them spiritually,” Father Paul Silvano said.

Special Agent Emily Prentiss had never wanted to wring a man’s neck more than this moment. There he was, sitting across from her, uncuffed, hands folded over the interrogation table with the arrogant expression of a man who had already won the war before it could start. He had sang-froid, Emily would give him as much. His self-righteous attitude irked her but not more than the curt egotistical responses he was giving her in return.

“They weren't on their deathbeds.”

“No, perhaps not physically.”

“Did you _kill_ them?”

Father Paul suddenly smiled as if the bold accusation amused him greatly. “No, I did not.”

Emily glared at him as her lips curled upwards into a deadly snarl. “But you're not sorry any of them are dead.”

“Physical death is always sad, but now their souls are in heaven. For that, their families have peace.”

_Innocent unless proven guilty be damned._

Underneath the table, Emily was clenching her fist so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She was determined to lock him away in the deepest, darkest hellhole imaginable and melt the key to a puddle herself. She didn’t care if she had to fly to Italy and beg the Italian government to do it. This man was going to fry under the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Meanwhile, Rossi and JJ stood in the observation room carefully watching and waiting for another break in the case.

“Up until four months ago, his record's spotless. No history of mental illness. No censures. He was even invited to say mass at the Washington National Cathedral,” JJ said with an air of disappointment.

She could feel herself starting to get a bit antsy. She was riddled with worry, especially since Emily, who was always so calm and collected, seemed to be gradually losing her cool as well. They had yet to hash out the awkward tension that had been hovering over them since Emily’s startling revelation, but the couple had never let their personal differences get in the way of their work if they could help it. Nevertheless, it wasn’t like JJ had stopped loving Emily. She was as determined to lock away that smug _son of a bitch_ as her girlfriend and the rest of the BAU team was.

That is, if Emily didn’t strangle him first.

“What happened?” Rossi asked.

“No details. Just says he took a sabbatical for personal reasons.”

“Huh.” Rossi looked thoughtful. “Four months ago… was just after the death in Spain.”

JJ hummed in agreement as she flicked through the files she held in her hands. “And it looks like he lobbied the Vatican for a diplomatic posting, but they refused. After that, he took the world hunger mission from the Italian government.”

“Which brought him here with immunity.” Rossi sighed as they connected the dots, and subsequently, the Father’s guilt in the crimes. “Where's Hotch?”

“He's on the phone with the State Department.”

“Gather the others. I’ll be there in a second.”

While JJ left to regroup the rest of the BAU team, Emily continued her own relentless interrogation of their UNSUB under Rossi’s watchful eye.

Emily stared at Father Paul with unyielding disgust. “Did you know the priest who died in Galicia?”

“Father Del Toro and I were at seminary together,” the Father replied without missing a beat.

“Did you know that Matthew Benton and the other men were in Galicia the week he died?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you believe they committed murder?”

The Father exhaled heavily through his nose as if he was tired of teaching a petulant child. “I was contacted by a family member. He was frightened. Told me that his real son and grandson never returned home from that trip and was concerned that something terrible must have happened to them.”

Emily froze in place when she realized he had said _grandson_ , not just _son_ , but _grandson_. Only one of those men had a son.

Like a bucket of ice water had been tossed all over her body, the brunette-haired profiler suddenly shot up, her chair falling backward and clattering noisily to the ground. “ _Excuse me_?”

A look of amusement and curiosity flashed across Father Paul’s haggard features. “Did what I say mean something to you, Agent Prentiss?”

Emily’s eyes grew borderline murderous. “Repeat what you said.”

The Father frowned. “I believe I am here of my own volition, Agent Prentiss. I don’t appreciate the tone you are having with me.”

Before Emily could lunge at the man out of pure anger and frustration, the door to the room abruptly swung open, halting the interrogation and temporarily, Emily’s rage. Rossi stood at the threshold, gauging the Father with a distrustful side-eye. “Agent Prentiss, a word please?”

A second passed, then two, before Emily finally tore her gaze away from Father Paul. She nodded once, brusquely, and stalked away from the table.

The Father leaned back against his chair, hands prim and proper on his lap. He remained untroubled, smiling innocently as he watched them leave. “You know, agents, I was only relaying what was said to me. I meant no offense.”

Rossi resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he followed Emily out the door and shut it behind him. “You shouldn’t let him get to you.”

Emily whipped around. “You heard what he said!” Her eyes were ablaze with a fierceness Rossi had never seen before in the likes of the woman. He was taken aback, but it was only then that the senior agent realized he wasn’t dealing with Special Agent Emily Prentiss, but Emily Prentiss, a mother protecting her child.

Treading carefully, Rossi slowly nodded his head. “I did.”

“And we’re just going to pretend he isn’t about to target Matthew’s son next?”

“We can’t detain the man, Emily, not without hard evidence, which we currently don’t have. Not to mention he has diplomatic status.”

“He _killed_ those men, Rossi. I know he did. And now he could be after Adrian!”

A troubled expression crossed Rossi’s features. “If Father Paul wanted to hurt him, he would have done so already. We didn’t profile him as being unorganized. If he had Mathew’s family in his grasp, why kill one but not the other?”

For once, Emily didn’t have a direct answer. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the Father’s agenda. Driven by his psychotic break, his motives for murder had been quite clear; he wanted to avenge Father Del Toro’s death, and he was adamant that his death had to do with soul possessions and demonology. What that had to do with an innocent fourteen-year-old kid and his father, Emily had no idea. What she did know stemmed from her gut instinct — Adrian Benton was still in danger, and the BAU was about to let a serial killer walk.

Rossi placed a gentle hand on Emily’s shoulder, holding her at arm’s length. “Our hands are tied, Emily. I’ll try to talk to Hotch and see if we can appease the brass upstairs, but in the meantime, we can’t touch him. Don’t risk your badge over this scumbag. We’ll get him.”

Emily wasn’t so sure. There was no way around diplomatic status. If anyone knew that, it was her. Father Paul would be long gone by the time anyone in the State Department gave them the time of day.

“Hotch?” Rossi suddenly questioned. SSA Aaron Hotchner was marching down the hall like a man with a mission. Emily eyed her superior warily.

“State Department’s orders,” was all Hotch said as he opened the door to the interrogation room. “Father, you are free to go. We’re sorry if detaining you has caused you any hardship.”

Nodding with satisfaction, Father Paul Silvano stepped out of the room. He looked at Emily briefly before taking his leave. “I hope you find peace.”

Emily glared at the Father even after his figure disappeared around the corner. Then, she turned to Hotch in disbelief. “How can you just let him walk?”

“ _Emily_ ,” Rossi murmured in a warning.

Hotch met Emily’s furious gaze with one of his own. “Are you actually accusing the Italian government of authorizing this man's assassination list?”

“He admits he was present at every death!”

“The case is over,” Hotch stated firmly.

Emily’s mouth dropped open. “You—You said you'd give me leeway!”

“And I did. I understand your frustration, but there are some things that we cannot control. Take some time off.”

“ _What_?”

“Emily, I don't want to see you in the office for the next few days. That is an order.”

Emily’s expression was floored at being benched and sent home, but she left the room without another word.

* * *

_THE STORM WAS not over._

Only one car, in particular, was brave enough to suffer through the onslaught of rain and wind, a bright red and gray taxi cab with the logo _YELLOW CAB CO_ in big bold letters. It slowed as it reached its destination in front of a townhome in Georgetown, D.C.

Three passengers shuffled out into the downpour. One of them, a man with receding salt and pepper hair and a graying beard, tossed the driver a twenty and straightened his cassock once he was satisfied that this was indeed their stop. The rain made it difficult to discern his surroundings, but the red door was hard to miss as it was not his first time here. The man was greeted at the door by a familiar couple who appeared rather relieved to see him.

“Come in, come in, Father, please.” The wife ushered him indoors along with his two companions. His two companions disappeared deeper into the house, while the man stayed put, appraising the two distressed souls before him.

“Did you do as I requested?” the man murmured.

“We’ve been maintaining minimal contact, and the boy has not left the house once. We’ve also been burning sage day and night just like you asked. You can help him? You will rid him of evil?” the woman inquired with a slightly desperate tone.

“We will see.”

Their discussion was interrupted by the sudden sharp _clang_ of glass shattering against the floor. The boy appeared from around the corner kicking everything in sight as he was hauled by the pit of his arms into the living room by two ghastly priests.

“ _Let go of me_!” the boy hollered as he thrashed against their unwilling grips.

“Calm yourself!” the Father barked, effectively silencing the boy when an expression of disbelief and bewilderment crossed his features. The boy’s wild eyes flickered back and forth at the three people in front of him. The realization of his predicament hit him like a brick.

“ _What is this_?” the boy whispered breathlessly. His gaze fixed on his grandparents who refused to meet his eyes. Their mouths were twisted with abhorrence as if his very existence in the room with them was physically offensive. “I never did anything to you!”

“Silence! You will speak to them no longer. You will only answer to me now, _belial_.”

“ _Belial_?” the boy exclaimed, staring at his grandparents with incredulity. “That’s what this is about? You actually believe I’m _the Devil_?”

“It is not what they believe. It is what you _are_. The Devil preys on children like you.”

The boy’s lips curved up into a disgusted sneer. “Yeah? And what are you going to do? Banish _Satan_ from my body?”

“If that is what it takes.”

“You’re insane. All of you.”

“Naive child,” the Father scolded. “Your _father_ used to be a conduit for the Devil, and he had done nothing but corrupt your soul. Your grandparents have granted you enough leniency. We are only trying to help you.”

“ _My father_? You did this to him, too?” Adrian Benton stared at his grandparents, Tom and Andrea, his body falling limp with complete shock. “ _How could you_? You’re the reason my dad is _dead_?”

“Quiet! The harder you fight, the harder you will fall.”

“You won’t get away with this! The FBI will bury you!”

The Father folded his arms calmly across his chest, his gaze on the _demon_ unwavering. “They have no authority. My orders come from God.”

A scowl darkened Adrian’s features as he cursed at the Father in Italian. “ _Smug bastard_.”

“You don’t frighten me, _belial_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I just want to thank you for taking the time out of your day to check out this story! I really appreciate it! This work can also be found on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day! Until next time...


	10. Chapter 10

_“PERMISSION TO ENTER the castle, Your Majesty?"_

_A small, solemn voice answered, "Permission granted."_

_Matthew Benton crouched down on his knees and smiled gently at the eleven-year-old boy tiredly peering up him from beneath his fortress of solitude._

_The boy's "fortress" was a large L-shaped desk in the corner of his bedroom with various blankets from around the house draped over all the sides. Sometimes, a few of the couch throws made a home in there as well. The boy liked the solace and sense of protection the enclosed space brought him. It was his and his alone, and not even Matthew dared to intrude without asking for permission first._

_"There you are," Matthew murmured, taking in the boy's weary state. His eyes were tinted red, and his body was slumped forward with obvious exhaustion. With the clock already ticking past two a.m., it seemed to be the workings of another nightmare-ridden night._

_The boy furled further into his body, wrapping two skinny arms around his knees. "I'm sorry, Matthew."_

_Matthew gently lifted one of the flaps of the blankets and crawled on his stomach beneath the desk that was definitely too small for his adult-sized body. "Adrian, bud, do you remember what I said about apologizing for things out of your control?"_

_Adrian's lower lip jutted out, slightly ashamed. "Not to do it."_

_"Exactly. I'll never be angry or annoyed at you for having a bad night. We all have those. Now," Matthew grinned mischievously, "I come bearing gifts."_

_The mention of gifts seemed to perk Adrian's somber mood up a bit — especially since one of these gifts was in the form of hot chocolate topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream. The second form of these gifts was a cylindrical, pastel purple candle and a small lighter._

_Adrian's body tensed, his hand that had been reaching for the warm sweet treat halting in midair. "I thought you said you lost your faith a long time ago?"_

_"I questioned the Father's teachings, yes, but don't worry, this is not for praying. Unless that is something you would like to do?" Matthew said quietly._

_The boy shook his head rapidly as he continued to eye the unlit candle like it had the potential to either cure his woes or subject him to immense pain._

_Matthew just smiled in response and gently pushed the mug of hot chocolate toward the boy. He waited for him to take several sips before lighting the candle and placing it as far away from any stray blanket edges as he could. Soon, the calming scents of lavender with delicate hints of jasmine filled the small space._

_The eleven-year-old frowned as he sniffed the air curiously. "What's that for?"_

_"Did you know that smell is your strongest sense?"_

_"No."_

_"Well, your ability to smell is connected to certain areas of the brain that help process emotions. So, sometimes, if I feel restless or scared, I will light a nice-smelling candle to help me sleep at night."_

_Adrian looked intrigued. He placed his half-finished mug on the ground beside his feet and tilted his head at Matthew expectantly. "It smells nice… Does it work?"_

_Matthew smiled at his son. "Well, we'll have to see now, won't we?" Once he was able to coax the boy out of his fortress, he got him situated beneath the covers once more. Adrian's young doe eyes peered up at him with disappointment._

_"It's not working," he said accusingly._

_Matthew resisted the urge to chuckle. "Just close your eyes, bud, and focus on breathing slowly. In and out. As long as this candle burns, no more demons will haunt you tonight, I promise."_

_Whether it was Matthew's promise to his son, the soothing scents, the hot chocolate, or a combination of all three, Adrian was soon sleeping soundly bundled underneath a mountain of blankets and pillows. With his heart soaring with affection, Matthew bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his son's temple._

_"Sleep tight, Adrian. I love you."_

"Love… you… Dad…" Adrian's mumblings weren't making much sense. His head lolled to the side. His left cheek rubbed against the inside of his bare arm as he tried to focus his fading vision, but his eyelids felt heavy and all he could make out was the vibrant brass knob of his bedroom door. Someone was yelling over him, but Adrian couldn't remember what was said or why. He felt light sprinkles of water hitting his face and something cold pressing against his chest.

His eyes dropped to the ground, where the shattered remnants of an old Apple iPhone laid scattered across hardwood flooring.

_His phone._

In a fleeting moment of clarity, Adrian remembered his panic. He remembered practically screaming into the device, but he had sounded like such a lunatic, he wondered if Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner had believed him enough to send help. Because at the moment — tied up on his own bed with a delusional priest rambling over him, trying to banish the Devil from his body — Adrian Benton really hoped he did.

* * *

AS IT TURNED out, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner _had_ believed him. It would have been quite difficult — and incredibly naive of him — not to when a child was practically begging him for help because a delusional priest was about to exorcise the Devil from his body. The same priest that Aaron Hotchner had just let go an hour before.

Hotch realized too late that he should have fought harder. He should have put his foot down for Agent Prentiss. He should have heeded his team's findings more seriously. Except he hadn't. And now, Emily's son was in danger, and it was all his fault.

So, when Emily threw all caution and procedure in the wind by sprinting to the car with JJ and Morgan, Hotch didn't dare fight it.

_State Department be damned._

* * *

THE BOY COUGHED and wheezed as his lungs clenched desperately for air. Breathing became more and more difficult with each agonizing exchange.

Tasting metal in his mouth, the boy coughed again. This time, his throat burned painfully as he choked on something wet and spit up blood into his sheets. Adrian struggled helplessly against the ropes around his wrists.

He couldn't _breathe_.

But the chanting continued.

* * *

THE BLACK GOVERNMENT-ISSUED SUV careened around the corner and came to a screeching halt right in front of the senior Benton residence. Without missing a beat, Agents Prentiss, Jareau, and Morgan jumped out of the car and sprinted for the gate, drawing their weapons. Derek kicked in the front door just as Emily and JJ burst inside.

"FBI!" Derek bellowed.

Tom and Andrea Benton jumped up from the couch in an instant, shock and fear flitting across their faces at the sight of three armed federal agents barging into their living room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Andrea shrieked. "This is our home! You have no right!"

"Where is he?" Emily demanded. Her eyes searched the area wildly, but there was no sign of that _damned priest_ or her son. Her lips curled up into a threatening snarl as she took a second step forward. "Adrian! Where is he?!"

Before either Bentons could answer, a cacophony of hostile shouts and distressed cries echoed from the hallway, causing all three of the agents to snap towards the noise. Emily tore down the corridor in a fury and JJ followed close behind, while Derek held the protesting couple back.

"Sit down!" Derek commanded, glowering at Tom and Andrea, who both obeyed mostly out of astonishment to his tone than anything else. "You two better pray that kid in there is alright or you'll have more to worry about than a couple of broken doors.”

Meanwhile, Emily kicked in the only closed bedroom door. The door crashed into the adjourning wall as it flew open, and the sight that greeted her made her want to press her gun to the Father's head and shoot him.

"FBI! Step away from him!" Emily yelled out amidst the chaos, aiming her service weapon at Father Silvano, who was currently holding Adrian down on the bed with a holy cross pressed against the boy's bare chest. When he continued to chant maniacally, Emily lunged forward and shoved the man away, using her body to shield the young boy from his torment. "I said step away from him!"

JJ swiftly holstered her gun, seized the Father by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him back into the far wall when he started flinging water from a glass vial at the pair.

"What is in that bottle?!"

"You have no right to interfere!" the Father bellowed as JJ forcefully pinned him against the wall with his hands wrenched behind his back. "No right!"

Derek burst into the room, roughly grabbed the Father, and slapped handcuffs on his wrists. "Actually, we have every right. The Italian government has rescinded your diplomatic status. Father Paul Silvano, you're under arrest for the murders of Thomas Valentine, Matthew Benton, and Patrick Cavanaugh, and the attempted murder of a minor."

The federal agent dragged the screaming man away, and if he just so happened to _accidentally_ catch the man against the doorjamb on his way out, no one had any qualms about it.

Adrian thrashed on the bed, whimpering when he felt something heavy drape over his body and something sharp and cold grazing his wrists. "No! Please!"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay.” JJ tried to soothe the struggling boy as Emily urgently worked to remove his bindings with a pocket knife. “You're safe, now. You're safe, honey."

Once Emily got the ropes cut, JJ called for a medic and the bureau’s THR unit with her radio. It was clear that the boy was under some sort of respiratory distress, but the amount of blood that he was coughing up was extremely worrisome. He was also sweating profusely and mumbling incoherently. The blonde-haired profiler met her girlfriend's frantic gaze. They both had a semblance of what could be causing Adrian's anguish, but the possible prognosis was not good at all. If anything, it made the two agents even more anxious.

“Adrian, hey, stay with us, honey,” Emily coaxed in a soft tone as she carded her fingers through the boy’s short hair. Adrian’s eyelids fluttered weakly in response as he numbly tried to follow the unfamiliar voice speaking to him. However, as his breathing grew exceedingly labored and wet, his body suddenly stiffened and he fell limp against the bed as his arms and legs began to twitch uncontrollably.

Emily gasped, her eyes widening with panic. Fortunately, it was then that two local paramedics barged into the room carrying a bag filled with medical equipment. They only spared one second to take stock of the situation before practically leaping into action. JJ gently pulled Emily back to give the paramedics more room to work with. The pair watched as they hooked the fourteen-year-old boy to various machines, pushed an IV into his arm, and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

“Is one of you Agent Jareau?” one of the medics asked.

“I am,” JJ answered immediately.

“You told dispatch you think it could be sarin or VX exposure?”

“We’re not one hundred percent certain, but judging on who our suspect was and his motives, we can only assume.”

The medic remained calm as his eyes flickered down to the unconscious boy before him and back up to the blonde-haired agent. “How much was he exposed to, do you know?”

JJ glanced at Emily, who in turn just looked frozen in a frenzy of panic. The blond-haired agent softened in sympathy. Technically, JJ wasn’t a mother and never had been, so she could only imagine the emotions flowing through her girlfriend at the moment. “The suspect was using a small vial of water, probably not more than four ounces, but we don't know how potent the toxin might be.”

The medic, who was asking the two agents questions and appeared to be the most experienced, nodded his head once. “Understood. A HAZMAT team from Station 22 is on-route to this location as we speak. I’m going to ask that everyone who came into contact with this room stay put. You’ll need to undergo decontamination procedures.”

“Brett, we should move out _ASAP_.” The second medic sounded worried. “The kid's oxygen levels are dropping, and I'm hearing poor blood flow in the left ventricle.”

“Run to the truck and grab a spinal board and some blankets,” the one named Brett commanded. “Notify MedStar and tell them we got a pediatric HAZMAT patient who is too unstable to decontaminate in the field. Tell them an unknown toxic nerve agent was used." Then, he turned to the agents with an urgent expression. "If you have a sample of the water, I would send it to the MedStar lab as soon as possible. They'll be expecting us, and it would help them get a treatment plan ready.” Brett swiftly cut the jeans off of Adrian’s legs and covered him back up with fresh blankets as the other medic joined him and helped transport the boy onto a stretcher. "Let's move out."

"Wait." Emily seemed to snap out of her stupor, clasping her hand over Adrian’s own. It felt too cold and clammy for comfort. "Is he going to be okay?"

"The faster we get him to MedStar, Agent, the better his chances are."

Adrian’s hand slipped from her grasp.


	11. Chapter 11

IF EMILY NEVER had to undergo another decontamination procedure in her life, she would not be upset.

She was currently sitting in the ER waiting room at MedStar with JJ. Because both of their clothes had tested positive for sarin, the two of them had been forced to change into paper jumpsuits courtesy of the bureau’s Technical Hazards Response Unit. And that was after having to take a decontamination shower outside in the freezing 20° temperatures. Safe to say, while Emily was relieved to know the worst she was going to get was a nose bleed, she was not exactly thrilled at the moment, especially since she was still extremely concerned about Adrian being in critical condition and whatnot.

At the moment, the senior Benton residence was under quarantine to collect evidence in the case against Father Paul Silvano and to decontaminate the area free from whatever nerve toxins the delusional priest had decided to implement. The rest of the BAU team had split up to tie up loose ends and smooth things over with local law enforcement and bureau officials. According to Hotch, the Italian government was going to extradite Father Paul back to Italy where he would be spending the rest of his days in prison. While Section Chief Strauss had not been pleased to hear of the BAU’s rogue indiscretions, the team — Emily, especially — was fortunately not going to be paying the consequences since they had technically helped put away a serial killer working under the radar.

As for Tom and Andrea, the couple was going to be charged with child endangerment and conspiracy to commit murder. The District Attorney wasn’t optimistic that the conspiracy charges would stick due to the religious nature of the crimes and how religion was tricky to argue against in court, but Emily didn’t have the energy to care. Either way, Tom and Andrea were going to be punished even if it wasn’t going to be to the full extent of the law.

Derek soon joined the duo in the waiting room. He was tugging at his own paper jumpsuit and grinned as he strolled up to the two agents. “You know this isn’t half bad. It’s pretty roomy.”

JJ made a face. “Oh no, the second Garcia is here I am changing out of these garbage bags. Obviously, men have never heard of chafing before.”

Emily snorted under her breath.

Derek stifled a laugh as he got settled in a chair across from the couple.

No sooner than a few minutes later, Penelope Garcia shuffled into view from around the corner. Donning a hot pink cardigan over a bright floral blouse, her eyes were wide with immense concern behind her cat-eye glasses. She had three black go-bags, one in each hand and one draped over her shoulder.

“Oh! I’m so glad you three are alright!” the technical analyst exclaimed. “When Hotch told the rest of the team what had happened, I grabbed all of your stuff and drove here as fast as I could!” She pulled Derek into a hug first much to the man’s amusement as she smacked him once in the chest for scaring her.

“Thank you, baby girl,” Derek murmured.

Next, she wrapped JJ in a tight hug before sitting beside Emily and pulling her into a side hug. “Are you okay, Em?” she asked quietly.

Emily nodded even though it was clear to her friends that she wasn’t. She was biting on her right thumbnail, and her left leg was anxiously bouncing up and down. JJ gently placed her hand on Emily’s leg, stopping her nervous tremors, and Emily gratefully clasped their hands together.

Sensing the two needed space to talk, Derek stood up with his go-bag in hand. “I’m going to head to the restroom to change and then grab us all some coffee on the way back.” He gave Garcia a meaningful look, and she seemed to understand the message because she popped up out of her seat right away.

“Oh! Yes, and I’ll help… you get coffee that is… not that we are going to be doing other things because that would be inappropriate, and I am not inappropriate…” Garcia’s ramblings trailed off she hurried after Derek.

The pair sat in awkward silence for a long few seconds before Emily turned to her partner. “I’m sorry, JJ.”

JJ exhaled deeply and shook her head. “No, Em, I’m sorry. I was being weird—“

“You weren’t being weird. I dropped a huge bombshell on you. Honestly, I’m just surprised you aren’t angrier.”

“Angry? I was never angry at you, Em. Shocked, yes. I guess I just… I know I’m not entitled to know every single little thing about your life, but I guess I was just a little hurt you didn’t feel you trusted me enough to tell me until you had to.”

“I do trust you, Jen.” Emily grabbed JJ’s hands and held them close to her chest as she gazed into those deep blue eyes she adored so much. “I trust you with my life. I am so in love with you that it hurts. I want to tell you everything. It’s just when it comes to my past… I’m not proud of who I was. I’m ashamed. I got knocked up at fifteen years old and then practically abandoned my own baby in a foreign country. I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

“Emily, you didn’t have a choice. You were only a kid yourself, and it’s your mother’s fault that you didn’t get the support you deserved.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it still happened.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that we can change the future now, isn’t it?” Emily turned her head at her girlfriend, quizzically. “You might be ashamed of yourself, Emily Prentiss, but I could never be ashamed of you. We’re a team, and no matter what happens, I will always love you, you dork.”

Emily’s heart swelled inside her chest. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have you by my side.”

JJ grinned goofily. “You getting sentimental on me, Agent Prentiss?”

“Only for you, Agent Jareau,” Emily replied pulling her girlfriend into the gentlest kiss.

When Derek and Penelope returned with four coffee cups in their hands, they smiled at the sight of the couple leaning against each other having made up.

For two hours, Emily alternated between sitting in a cramped plastic chair and pacing the family waiting room to watch the double doors open and close repeatedly. It seemed like every doctor who walked through those doors had updates for everyone but her. The last time she had felt this antsy was the day she had to leave her newborn son at the hospital back in Rome. As fate would have it, she was back in the hospital, but this time around, she wasn’t about to leave without knowing that Adrian was absolutely going to be alright, if anything.

After what felt like an eternity, a woman dressed in green scrubs finally approached the waiting area. “Family of Adrian Benton?"

Emily sprung out of her chair like a jester in a jack-in-the-box toy. JJ squeezed Emily’s hand reassuringly.

The doctor approached the small group, tilting her head at the brunette-haired agent with a professional but kind smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am, and you are?”

"I'm his—“ Emily suddenly faltered as her lips struggled to form the word she had naturally wanted to say. Fourteen years of silently referring herself as once a (failed) mother to her son made the word almost fly out of her mouth unconsciously. After all, Emily _was_ Adrian’s mother biologically. On the other hand, being Adrian’s mother legally was another story altogether. Emily wasn’t even sure she deserved the title much less the declaration. Despite this, she still forced herself to say it. “I’m his mother."

Emily’s cheeks and ears burned as she uttered the words, but the doctor seemed to accept Emily’s proclamation, unaware of the inner turmoil that was brewing inside the profiler’s mind. “Okay, Mrs. Benton—"

"Actually, it's-um Agent… Agent Prentiss."

The doctor smiled gently. “My apologies, Agent Prentiss. My name is Dr. Lockhart. I will be the lead pediatrician treating your son during his stay here. Let me debrief you with what we know. Your son was brought in with severe sarin toxicity levels. As you may know, sarin is an extremely harmful nerve agent. It targets the body's central nervous system by inhibiting a certain enzyme and causing acetylcholine to build up in the muscles, which may lead to seizures and paralysis if not treated immediately."

Emily’s grip on JJ’s hand tightened. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she straightened her shoulders and steeled herself for the worse possible outcome. If Adrian ended up paralyzed for life, she would never forgive herself. "But Adrian is okay, right?"

"We were able to stabilize his condition, but he's not out of the woods just yet," Dr. Lockhart confirmed. "We put him on Diazepam to control the convulsions and administered 4 milligrams of Atropine and 25 milligrams of Pralidoxime as antidotes to combat the toxin in his system. We won't know the full prognosis until he wakes up and I can do a full evaluation, but I will say his prospects of recovery are good. Our lab was able to determine the toxin used in time, so I have high hopes that the antidote will be at its highest efficiency."

Emily let out a breath of slight relief. “Can we see him?"

"Of course, but unfortunately, only immediate family members are allowed into the PICU."

Emily quickly shared a look with her lover, but JJ merely smiled with the softest and most loving expression Emily had ever seen that day and shook her head. “I’ll go with you if you want, but I think you should see him first.”

“Go be with the kid, Emily,” Derek encouraged with a bolstering smile as Penelope enveloped her in a warm, cheered hug. “We’ll let the rest of the team know the good news.”

Emily hesitated, not wanting to leave JJ behind, but after seeing her smile and nod once more, she followed Dr. Lockhart through the double doors. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest as they ventured deeper into the PICU ward. They arrived at one of the suites with a clear sliding glass door. A big red hazard symbol was taped on the wall just beside the entrance. Thick fabric curtains were drawn most of the way, but Emily could just catch a glimpse of an unmoving figure laying beneath pale blue sheets.

“Before we go in, I should warn you, Agent Prentiss. Adrian came to us with a massive pulmonary edema, which is not uncommon when paired with a nerve toxin. We were able to drain the fluids from his lungs and he responded well to a blood transfusion, but we had to put Adrian on a positive pressure ventilator to ensure his oxygen levels remain stable as he recovers. I wouldn't worry too much as this was just a precaution on our part, and the tube will be removed as soon as he wakes up."

Emily’s eyes creased with worry. “He hasn't woken up?"

"Adrian is on a light sedation drip to minimize the severity of his seizures as the antidotes work to neutralize the toxins in his body. He had a seizure en route to the hospital and two in our emergency room, but the diazepam should help prevent any future cases,” Dr. Lockhart patiently explained. “One of our nurses will come in every hour to monitor his condition. I will be in and out as well, but if there is anything you or your son needs, don't hesitate to ask." The doctor kindly shook Emily's hand. "Your son will be okay, Agent Prentiss. He's quite a fighter that one."

A quiet “thank you" was all Emily could manage to say without her voice audibly cracking.

When Dr. Lockhart finally left the room to attend to other patients, Emily was alone with her thoughts. She slowly approached the bed, her gaze lingering on the various wires and tubes that ran from beneath the bedsheets up to the monitors. Compared to the emergency room, the PICU was a much calmer space. She could hear the buzz and hiss of the machines running, see the slight rise and fall of her son's chest as he slept fitfully. _Her son_. Did all mothers feel the way Emily was feeling now? Seeing Adrian like this was like all of a sudden her heart was beating outside of her chest, and she couldn't breathe.

She sat down in the armchair beside the bed.

It was peculiar, really. Emily hadn’t expected to feel so much seeing a person she had only met briefly once. Albeit, if she was being honest, she supposed it was more accurately nine months, a brutal nine months, but nine months nonetheless. For 273 days, she had carried her son inside her belly and carefully nurtured him to life. Every time Emily had touched her stomach and felt a little kick or flutter of activity, her heart had swelled to infinite heights. She may have given her son the miracle of life, but she had also given him something even greater, something she hadn’t even realized was possible — her heart and unconditional love.

Emily placed one of her hands on top of Adrian’s, mindful of the IV and pulse oximetry. He remained asleep, didn’t even twitch. His wrists were bandaged. The skin on his arms held old scars that Emily thought no human much less a child should have.

 _A mother’s love is an unrivaled force of nature, and Emily surely loved her son even if it frightened her to death._ This was the second time ever seeing her kid. She had seen him once the same hour he was born. She had even gotten to cradle him in her arms, though half of why she had done it was out of spite for her mother. The other half was because of Matthew. If it wasn't for him, Emily was positive she would have never gotten to see or hold her son. If it wasn’t for Matthew, Emily probably would have never been reunited with her son at all.

The only question now was what was going to happen to Adrian? With Tom and Andrea Benton out of the equation and no obvious next of kin in the Benton household, Emily was sure Child Protective Services would be knocking on the door sooner rather than later. No one to claim guardianship of Adrian would mean the kid would be placed back into the foster system. No, Emily was not about to let the state take her son away, never again. She immediately sent a text to JJ, who replied right away, no questions asked.

A full hour passed. Emily stood up and paced the room, keeping at least one eye on the sleeping boy. He had yet to show any hints of waking up, but the nurse that had periodically checked in on him told her that his oxygen stats were rising and his brain was active, which were both good signs. After the third hourly check-up by one of the nurses in charge of Adrian’s care, a faint knock at the door indicated that JJ had finally arrived. There was a large manila envelope tucked under her arm.

“Hey,” JJ whispered softly.

“Hey,” Emily echoed.

JJ’s eyes grazed over the boy laying in the bed. He was hooked up to all sorts of machines including a respirator. She winced slightly at the sight and stepped into the room, wrapping her arms around her lover. Emily sighed as she melted into the embrace. “How is he?”

“The doctors are saying he is slowly getting better. The meds are working thus far, but they want to keep him asleep for at least another day to give his lungs a chance to recover.”

“And how are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” At JJ’s skeptical eyebrow raise, Emily sighed and admitted, “Better now that you’re here. Thank you for going back to the office.”

“Anytime, Emily, you know that.” JJ handed the envelope over and motioned for them both to take a seat. “Everything with the Silvano case is being wrapped up as we speak. Hotch says we both have the rest of the week off, but if we need more time, then it’s covered.”

Emily felt like she shouldn’t be surprised by her unit chief’s intuition, and yet, she was.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, really. I just—” Emily paused and bit her lower lip. “Is it really that obvious?”

JJ’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Is what obvious?”

Emily lifted her gaze so that the two were face to face. The guilt in her eyes was surprising, especially since the blonde-haired agent couldn’t fathom why her partner would look so forlorn. “That I want to do this. Jen, I-I can’t leave him again. I just can’t.”

The smile that appeared on JJ’s face was probably one of the most beautiful things that Emily had ever seen. Even after dropping yet another bombshell, Emily didn’t see her blonde-haired partner looking upset; she didn’t look hurt or exasperated. The only emotion that JJ was radiating at that moment was love, pure and utter adoration that was directed only at the person she cared about the most. “I know.”

“You-You do?”

“Of course, I do, you goof.” JJ smiled fondly with a hint of mirth. “I mean—We always did talk about starting a family one day.”

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t know that it was possible to love someone as much as she did until now. “Are-Are you sure? Because, JJ… I know you wanted a baby.”

“Emily, you’re my family and I love you. And Adrian? He is a part of you. He is your son, which means that I love him too. Sure, this isn’t very conventional, but since when have we ever cared about what society has thought of us? Whatever happens, we’ll make it work.”

Emily hugged her lover before she could say anything more. “Gosh, I love you.”


	12. Chapter 12

_EMILY PRENTISS DIDN’T realize it, but she was staring at Jennifer Jareau with something that their mutual friend, Penelope Garcia, would describe as “heart eyes”. Because at that particular moment, nothing else mattered in the room except for the blonde-haired agent named Jennifer Jareau. She was all Emily could think about, all she could see — not that it took much effort, either. Nearly anything that Jennifer did was beguiling in her mind. However, what Emily hadn’t anticipated were the overwhelming emotions that made her heart want to explode out her chest when she saw Jennifer Jareau carrying a baby._

_Three days ago, the BAU had been assigned to a manhunt, searching for a serial kidnapper who had been abducting infants from their homes and trafficking them on the black market for profit. When the team had stormed their UNSUB’s hideout on the outskirts of town, they had discovered their UNSUB’s latest target — eight-month-old Sabrina Roberts. Fortunately, the baby girl had remained unharmed. If anything, she had been a little fussy and overwhelmed by the sheer number of law enforcement agents and officers surrounding her._

_The eight-month-old had been wailing her poor little lungs out one second and cooing happily the next, and all it had garnered was JJ scooping up the baby girl in her arms to calm her. Emily’s jaw nearly dropped open right then and there. It seemed her partner was_ _inherently good with children, and that was not just a biased opinion because Emily happened to be madly in love with her. A handful of the BAU’s cases tended to involve minors one way or another, and JJ, being the compassionate human being she was, never failed to get them out of their shell. Witnessing the blonde-haired agent being so kind and gentle to kids always made Emily’s chest physically ache._

_Because while the couple had talked about having kids one day, it had yet to happen._

_JJ wanted kids. And Emily, well, she desired nothing more than to have a family with the woman she loved with all of her heart. The only problem was the dark, heavy secret following Emily around like a constant cloud of guilt and shame — the secret she had never told anyone, not even her partner. It kept her from going through with their plans of either artificial insemination or adoption. Emily knew she would have to eventually tell JJ why she was so hesitant to start their family even though she truly wanted to, but for now, she was trying her hardest to bury it._

_Emily watched as JJ delicately rocked the infant in her arms, keeping her calm as paramedics checked her over. The blonde-haired woman was looking down at the baby, smiling, her eyes a tender blue. When JJ looked up at Emily, radiant with relief and joy at their somewhat happy ending to the case, Emily returned the sentiment, though not as genuine as she wanted it to be. Emily Prentiss wanted to give Jennifer Jareau the happy ending that she deserved. But with what she had done in the past, Emily just wasn’t sure she could._

Three months ago, Emily Prentiss had been certain that she was going to take her secret to the grave. She’d had her doubts that their relationship would ever last because of that secret. Now, that secret was out, and both of their lives were about to change for — _hopefully_ — the better.

Because in her hands was a custody agreement that granted Emily Prentiss fully parental rights of one Adrian Augustus Benton.

JJ peered at the documents, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Is that—“

“Yeah, it is.”

JJ turned her head to look at her partner. Emily was just staring blankly at the papers, not saying a word. “I mean, this is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course it is. I just—” Emily stammered. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be this easy. This-This could have ended so badly. What if I hadn’t wanted this? Matthew just assumed—“

“Emily, you’ll drive yourself crazy playing the what if game. Take it with a grain of salt. This was meant to be. Matthew trusted you would do the right thing, and you _are_ doing the right thing.”

“Am I? I don’t know the first thing about being a parent.”

“You really need to stop doubting yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Emily slumped forward in her seat, her head in her hands. “I’m just worried.”

JJ smiled as she intertwined their hands together. “Parents are always worried about their kids. Looks like you’re doing good already.”

* * *

_“MY DAD ISN’T doing any drugs!” the boy scoffed in a harsh tone. He had his arms folded across his chest, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth downwards. Fourteen-year-old Adrian Benton glared at his surrogate uncle in what could be described as typical teenage offense._

_“I didn’t say he was,” John Cooley replied, calmly._

_“You didn’t have to. I KNOW that look on your face.”_

_John sighed. He had learned the first time he’d met the kid that he could be quite the feisty being when he wanted to. So, really, he should have expected this reaction out of him — the stubborn as a mule, half-defiant, half-challenging attitude as Adrian blocked the front door, John’s only exit. “Listen, kiddo, before Matthew adopted you, he had some… troubles. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. He didn’t sound like himself on the phone.”_

_“Trust me. I would know if someone was high on drugs, uncle John,” Adrian deadpanned._

_John hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should be more concerned that a fourteen-year-old knew what a strung-out person was like, but he was certain that something was not quite right with Matthew, whether it be because of drugs or not. Behind closed doors, his old friend was acting erratically, and his recent face-to-face with Matthew in his home office proved so. He had been rambling nonsense and acting increasingly paranoid. He had even thought that someone was trying to KILL him and Adrian. John had no inkling as to where Matthew could have gotten that from, and that fact troubled him. He had a feeling Matthew was hiding most of his ramblings from Adrian because the kid would probably be just as perturbed as John was if he had heard such confessions._

_“I’m just concerned is all,” John admitted._

_Adrian shifted from one leg to the other. He tilted his head down and then back up. His shoulders seemed to loosen slightly. “I’m sorry I tried to bite your head off.” His voice was softer, less hostile. “I just don’t like it when people accuse my dad of things just because of the things he did in the past.”_

_Ah, well, now the defensive nature made sense. John was fairly certain that Adrian was referring to Matthew’s parents. They were not the most pleasant people to deal with if they didn’t like you or agree with your beliefs, which seemed to happen a lot within Matthew’s little circle. Tom and Andrea didn’t like that Matthew had adopted Adrian, didn’t like that Adrian wasn’t practicing Catholicism, didn’t like that Matthew was allowing it, didn’t like this, didn’t like that. And god-forbid, they would ever let Matthew’s past trouble with drugs go. John supposed he had touched a nerve with that one._

_“I didn’t mean to be like your grandparents.”_

_“Dad promised me he would stay clean.”_

_“I know he did, kiddo, and I know Matt isn’t one to break a promise, especially not to you. Doesn’t stop me from worrying about the both of you, though.”_

_“He told me he was just stressed because of work. Is there something else you’re not telling me?”_

_John waved the boy’s suspicions away. “He is probably telling the truth, and your old Uncle John is just overreacting.”_

_Adrian furrowed his eyebrows, seeing John avert his gaze to the left for half of a second. “You’re lying.”_

“ _What? Adrian, come on.” The boy pushed past his surrogate uncle, ignoring his calls. “Adrian. Adrian!_ ”

The boy woke up spluttering for air. He coughed violently as he keeled over in bed, pain exploding in the middle of his chest. There were things touching him and loud noises ringing in his ears. A gloved hand suddenly appeared in front of his face, and he instinctively pushed it away. “ _D-Don’t… t-touch me_ ,” he croaked out in a haplessly hoarse voice.

“Relax, honey, you’re okay. Let’s give him five milligrams of diazepam, please.” There was a hand supporting his back and then an object being placed over his mouth. “It’s just some oxygen. I need you to breathe in and out for me.” The voice was unfamiliar, soft, but clinical. Everything was hazy and muffled. His head throbbed, and it felt like his heart was pumping a million miles per second.

Slowly, but surely, the boy felt a wave of calmness wash over him. Panting quietly, he opened his eyes, seeing baby blue sheets illuminated by bright fluorescent lights draped over his legs. There were bandages wrapped around his wrists and an IV taped to the back of his hand. Eventually, he lifted his head up to see multiple faces staring at him with varying degrees of concern.

A woman with a heart-shaped face, dark-colored eyes, and shoulder-length dark brown hair leaned into his view. “Adrian, I’m Dr. Lockhart. Do you know where you are?” The woman gave him a few seconds to answer, but when he didn’t she just offered him a kind smile. “That’s alright. You’re at MedStar hospital. You’ve been asleep for a while, so things may be a little disorienting for you at the moment I’m sure. How are you feeling right now? Any pain or discomfort?”

Adrian’s eyes flickered from the doctor’s face to the other three people in the room. There was a nurse wearing bright pink scrubs off to his left studying what appeared to be a tablet in her hands. Two other women stood near the foot of his bed, one with short brunette hair and one with long blonde hair. He gazed at their intertwined hands, blinking slowly as he tried to process who they were and why he was here in the first place. But his mind came up blank; everything was just too muddled.

Adrian returned his attention to the doctor next to him when she spoke. “Well, I just want to do a quick physical to make sure you’re okay. Does that sound alright with you, Adrian?”

Adrian wanted to ask who the hell these people were and what the hell happened, but he was so tired that he merely nodded his head and dropped his gaze back to the baby-blue-colored bedsheets.

Dr. Lockhart beamed, seemingly pleased at finally getting a response from him. “That’s good. That’s really good. Would you feel more comfortable if your mom stayed with you or would you like to be alone?”

 _What?_ Adrian didn’t think he had ever been so perplexed in his life. It was like the doctor was talking in gibberish to him. “W-What are you talking about?” he mumbled.

“We can just wait outside, doctor,” the brunette-haired woman suddenly interjected. Her lips were stretched into a forced, thin-lipped smile. Adrian tilted his head in confusion as he watched the woman practically drag her other companion out of the room with her. She glanced back once, but all Adrian could sense was that she was uncomfortable.

A strong scent of rubbing alcohol wafted through the air as the doctor returned back to his side, rubbing the last of some sanitizer onto her hands. “We’ll just check your blood pressure and listen to your lungs and heart first, okay?”

Adrian nodded absentmindedly, feeling the nurse wrap a large cuff around his upper arm as the doctor held a stethoscope to his chest and told him to take a deep breath. He did as he was told, but his attention was elsewhere. He gazed out of the window where he could see the nurses’ station and several employees milling about. The two women were still there, just lingering by the nurses’ station in what appeared to be a deep discussion. When one of them lifted their arm up to brush away a strand of hair, Adrian saw a black gun handle protruding out of a holster attached to their hip.

Suddenly, the blonde-haired woman didn’t seem like such a stranger anymore. She was with the FBI. He had spoken to her before, had entrusted her with his father’s envelope.

“What’s the last thing you remember, honey?” Dr. Lockhart asked him in a gentle tone as she shined a small flashlight into his eyes.

Adrian wished he didn’t remember, except he did. He twisted the bedsheets in his hands, shifting uneasily as he busied himself by studying the intravenous line that ran from the back of his hand up to a bag of clear fluid. “Father Paul,” he finally murmured after a minute.

Dr. Lockhart peered at him as if she waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, the good doctor just nodded her head like she knew exactly what he was referring to. She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Well, the good news is, it looks like you are recovering very well, Adrian. I am still a bit worried about your oxygen levels. They are lower than what I would like, but I think with some more rest and time, you should be back to one hundred percent. All you have to do now is take it easy. In the meantime, I’ll update your mom on what’s going on, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

 _There it was again. The word: mom._ As far as Adrian knew, he didn’t have a mom. Well, he supposed he had a biological mother somewhere in the world, but not really a _mom_. He had Matthew who was his dad, and that was all, but he was gone now. Adrian furrowed his eyebrows, calling out before the doctor could walk away. “Wait, what do you mean by my mom?”

Dr. Lockhart tilted her head, confusion and concern in her kind eyes. “Your mom? Agent Prentiss? She’s just outside this door, honey.”

Adrian nearly fainted.


	13. Chapter 13

EMILY PRENTISS FINALLY let out the breath that she’d been holding in when the sliding glass door shut behind them.

Beside her, JJ quietly chuckled. Amusement flickered in her bright blue eyes. “Nice save.”

Emily threw her hands up in frustration. “Well, how was I supposed to know she’d just blurt it out loud like that?”

“I doubt that was her intention, babe. It’s not like she knows the situation. I’m sure she was just following standard procedure.”

“I don’t even know where to begin. What do I tell the kid? Hey, I’m your biological mother who gave you up fourteen years ago because I couldn’t stand up to my own mother, but hey, look on the bright side, I now have full custody over you, so congrats.”

JJ stifled a smile. “Well, maybe not all of that at once. But as long as you tell Adrian the truth, I’m sure everything will work out in the end. The longer you put it off, the worse you’re going to feel.”

Emily didn’t say anything as she turned to look through the window at the fourteen-year-old boy. He had his head down and was fiddling with the edges of the blanket. He looked small and alone. Tired. Confused.

This wasn’t supposed to have happened. This wasn’t the future that Emily’s fifteen-year-old self had envisioned for her son. Though she had tried her hardest not to think about a future where her son grew up without her, the first thing she’d hope for at the time was that, wherever he ended up, he’d be surrounded by people who loved him unconditionally. However, judging by the fact that Adrian had not been adopted until he was ten years old and by his own father at that, Emily had a feeling that her only hope had not come true.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Dr. Lockhart stepped out of the room whilst tapping away on an electronic tablet. She glanced up and addressed the two women with a reassuring smile. “Adrian is responding well to the treatment we’re giving him. His oxygen levels are still a little low, but it sounds like his lungs are clearing up, so I’m positive that with some more time and rest, your son should make a full recovery.”

Emily felt relief flood through her. “So, he’ll be okay.”

The doctor nodded. “Overall, I’d say Adrian’s going to be just fine. He’s not showing any signs of permanent neurological damage or cognitive deficit that you would typically see with severe sarin exposure, which is good. He’s a little out of it at the moment, but that’s a common side effect of the sedatives we gave him. We’ll continue to monitor him throughout the rest of the day and night just to be sure.” She gave the two agents another smile before walking away to resume her rounds.

Although Emily was still immensely worried, she felt slightly better knowing that Adrian was going to be alright after all.

JJ gently nodded towards the hospital room. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“Are you going to come in too?”

“If you’d like me to, I will.”

Emily nodded her head, so with JJ intertwining their hands together, they both entered the room.

Adrian was sitting up in bed and gazing at the wall with a far-away look in his eyes. He had turned his head slightly to the side when the door had opened, but his gaze remained fixed to the wall. Emily was glad to see that Adrian didn’t seem as terrified as he had before when he’d woken up in a room full of strangers, but she still felt apprehensive when she noticed the way his entire body seemed to tense at their appearance. She tried to calm herself by rationalizing the response. It was normal. He didn’t know them well enough to be comfortable around them. It wasn’t because he was affronted and hated her. Yet.

JJ lowered herself into one of the armchairs, offering the boy a friendly smile. “Hello, Adrian. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Agent Jareau.”

“I remember,” Adrian murmured, “from the house. You were with Agent Hotchner.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said in a soft voice. “And beside me is my colleague and partner, Agent Emily Prentiss.”

“Hey there, Adrian,” Emily greeted him, feeling a bit self-conscious because he had yet to lift his up to look at them. “How are you feeling?”

The boy stayed quiet and just continued to stare down at his lap, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. Emily exchanged glances with her girlfriend, who merely tilted her head and raised her eyebrows with a meaningful nod.

“So, I got your envelope,” Emily quietly said, stepping closer to the bed. “Did Matthew… Did your father ever tell you what was in there?”

She caught onto the fact that Adrian was rather averse to her presence by the way his jaw clenched and how he seemed to stiffen up every time she spoke.

“No,” he eventually said after several beats of silence. His tone was monotonous. “He didn’t.”

“Is it okay if I tell you?” Emily asked, hesitantly. “I think it’s something you should know—“

“The doctor said that you’re my mom,” Adrian blurted out, much to their surprise. He finally lifted his head to gaze at Emily with intense, dark brown eyes. Her breath hitched in her throat as she froze. She could feel her heart pounding rapidly inside her chest. “Twice. She said it twice. The first time I thought it was a fluke, but then the second time she told me that it was what _you_ had told her.”

Emily opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but nothing came out.

Adrian seemed to take her silence as a confirmation. “So… it _is_ true.”

“Yes,” Emily stammered out. “Yes, it is true. I really didn’t mean for you to find out this way, Adrian. You’re probably shocked and upset right now, and you have every right to be. I can only hope you’ll let me explain.”

He fiddled with his fingers, shifting in place. His eyes flickered from Emily to JJ and then back to Emily. “Okay,” he whispered, agreeing with some reluctance.

Emily took a seat next to the bed as she tried to meet the boy’s eyes. “I didn’t want to give you up, Adrian. I truly didn’t. I _wanted_ to keep you. I wanted to keep you so badly, especially on the day you were born, and I got to hold you in my arms for the first time.”

Adrian didn’t say anything as Emily spoke, but he did raise his head to look at her, allowing her to see his big brown eyes that reminded her so much of Matthew in his youth.

“But I was fifteen when I got pregnant, and my mother — we had to move around a lot because of her work. She was never around much, so when she demanded I sign my parental rights to you away, that’s what I did. I ended up doing what she wanted because, at the time, the only thing I wanted from her was for her to be proud of me.”

Emily only felt mortification and shame from her past actions. Revealing that her mother’s approval had been more important than her own child at the time had been more painful than she could have imagined.

“I couldn’t put my foot down and that’s why you ended up in the system. I should have fought for you harder, Adrian,” she said admittedly. “And I’m so sorry that I didn’t.”

Adrian’s expression was hard to read. He remained silent for a long time, but Emily could tell he was deep in thought.

When he eventually did speak, his tone was surprisingly soft and sympathetic, and it caught her completely off guard. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said, meeting Emily’s gaze.

She blinked once, then twice. Out of all the things that her son could have replied with — or yelled — _that_ particular response hadn’t been one that Emily’d anticipated. Moreover, the boy looked genuinely apologetic too.

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for,” Emily returned almost instantaneously, stumbling over her words as she was still a little dazed from his calm response. “If anything, I am. I had no idea you were stuck in the system. If I had, I would’ve never… They promised me you’d be placed into a good home with good people.”

Adrian shrugged his shoulders and directed his gaze back down to his lap. “Yeah, well, the ratio of foster parents to foster kids in Italy isn’t exactly stellar.”

Emily swallowed as the pit of her stomach twisted uneasily. She unconsciously reached over to grab onto JJ’s hand, who accepted and rubbed the palm of her hand in comfort. The boy glanced up briefly with a curious expression, his eyes flickering to their joined hands.

“How many?” Emily asked.

“What?”

“How many homes did they put you in?”

With something very like a snort, Adrian shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.” When Emily’s expression plummeted as if hurt by the statement, the boy swiftly clarified, “I meant that I can’t tell you even if I wanted to because I don’t know. I moved around a lot, so it was redundant to keep track. I mean—if I had to guess… _maybe_ twenty?”

“ _Twenty homes in ten years_?” JJ interjected for the first time in the conversation, looking appalled. “That’s like two every year. They actually do that to kids?”

Adrian turned away from them and just shrugged his shoulders again.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that,” Emily told him.

“It’s okay. I don’t blame you. I guess I used to when I was younger, but… that was before I understood why you did what you did.”

As Emily stared at the boy in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel more and more perplexed. She’d expected the full works. The hatred. The yelling. The denial. The rejection. She had expected everything but understanding. The last thing she felt she deserved was Adrian’s compassion. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. How could he not be upset with her right now? Somehow, Emily seemed angrier at herself than Adrian was of her.

“My dad… He once asked me if I wanted to know who my biological mother was. I told him no because I was ten at the time and I — well, I was against the idea of knowing you. I hated that you left me, and I didn’t want anything to do with you. When my adoption was finalized, he never told me who you explicitly were. Just the little things, I suppose. He said that someone had forced your hand and while you had no say in the matter, you had… you had _loved_ me very much and wanted to keep me. You just weren’t able to.”

Emily sat there, speechless. She gulped, blinking her eyes rapidly as she took in his words. Her heart ached for the sweet, messed-up kid she’d had the honor of being friends with in Rome. Even years later, despite them having lost contact, he was still defending her. He was such an incredible person, and he sounded like an even more incredible father. “Matthew… He told you all of that?”

Adrian tilted his head to the side. His eyes searched her face for something she didn’t know, but he nodded solemnly.

“It’s true, you know. I did _love_ you, and I still do. Leaving you behind in Rome was one of the worse—if not _the_ worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. Adrian, if I could go back in time and take it all back, I would in a heartbeat.”

“I believe you.”

Inhaling deeply, Emily handed her son the envelope that she’d been anxiously waiting to show him. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he stared at the item, leaving it in her hands.

“I think you should look at what’s in there,” she gently explained.

“Um, I don’t… I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Adrian answered, looking unsure. “There was a reason he wanted you to have it.”

“I know, but humor me? Please?”

Biting down on his lower lip, the boy reluctantly grabbed the envelope from her hands and pulled out the stack of papers. His eyes fell to the first page, and it was like time stood still.

Emily had no idea how Adrian was going to react to the fact that he was now under her permanent guardianship. He’d been oddly forgiving about Emily abandoning him at birth, but then again, he’d had years to stew over it. This was probably something he had never thought about before and for a good reason.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the kid’s reaction. JJ was lightly squeezing her hand for comfort, and Emily met her eyes, sharing her fears and concern. The corners of her partner’s lips lifted as she gave her a small reassuring smile.

After an agonizing few seconds, Adrian very slowly placed the papers and envelope on the rolling bedside table in front of him, avoiding looking in their direction. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t know that my dad was going to do that, I swear. He never said anything, and if I knew, I wouldn’t have made Agent Jareau give this to you.“

Emily frowned when she realized that the kid was genuinely distraught and stressed. “Adrian—“

“You don’t have to,” he blurted out. “If you didn’t know about it beforehand, it’s not legally binding. You can contest it in court or rip up the documents. I don’t care.”

“Adrian,” Emily repeated his name in what she hoped was a soothing tone because the kid was looking more and more like he was about to either spontaneously combust or have a fatal heart attack. They could practically see his stats rising on the monitor. “Breathe, honey. I’m not upset about it.”

“But—“

“Relax. I promise I’m not mad at you. Far from it. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I only wanted you to look at it because I wanted you to understand that I am all in. I’m going to sign the papers, Adrian, officially. Because you’re my son, and I love you.”

He wavered. His eyes jumped back and forth between the two of them. Doubt was strewn across his features. “You can’t love me. You don’t even _know_ me. If you knew half of the things that I’ve—you wouldn’t be saying that so easily, Agent Prentiss.”

“But I want to get to know you, honey.”

However, Adrian shook his head. “You should just put me back in foster care.”

Emily’s eyes widened as her lower jaw dropped. She caught JJ’s equally shocked look. “ _Put you back in foster care_? Why would I ever do that?”

“Listen, you only knew about me because my dad was murdered by some crazy psychopath. So, technically, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now if my dad was still alive.”

“I want this to work. I really do.”

“You have your own _life_ ,” he stressed.

“And you’ll be in it,” Emily insisted.

“ _Mannaggia!_ ” Adrian threw his hands into the air as he cursed in Italian. His eyebrows were tightly knitted together in frustration. “You don’t get it! I’d rather live a life in foster care than being stuck as some obligatory burden!”

“You wouldn’t be—“

“Yes, I would! I’ve seen these situations happen with my own eyes, and they get ugly real fast. I’m _not_ stupid, Agent Prentiss. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Adrian, wait,” Emily pleaded. She tried reaching out to him with her hands, but when the teenager recoiled from the gesture, she pulled away. “Just hear me out, please. I know the way I got custody is a bit unconventional, but this — I _want_ to do this.”

The boy gazed at her with skepticism in his eyes. “You _want_ or you _need_? Because those are mutually exclusive, Agent Prentiss.”

“I _want_ to be a parent to you, Adrian.” She looked at him in the eyes, hoping to convey as much of her honesty as possible. She understood that the teenager was leery of her and her intentions, and while it was for a completely valid reason, Emily couldn’t help but feel utterly helpless by it. “I won’t lie to you. I’m probably going to make a lot of mistakes. In fact, most of the time, I probably won’t even know what the hell I am doing. But there is one thing that I will _always_ know for sure and that is I _want_ to do this. One hundred percent. I _want_ to be a _parent_ to you, honey.”

Adrian tensed at the particular word, and he turned his head away from the two women. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but seriously, you don’t need to do this. You don’t need to prove anything to me. I get it, okay? You regret what you did fourteen years ago.”

“I’m doing this because I want to,” Emily affirmed in a soft voice. “Not because some piece of paper says I should. I’ve wanted to keep you ever since I found out about you. That has never changed, and it never will.”

Adrian stared at her for a long time. But when he finally spoke, he didn’t sound angry. “Okay,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read this story. As always, I appreciate every single one of you. Also, thank you so, so much for the kudos and comments! You are all way too kind to me, and I deserve none of it. I hope you enjoyed this update, and please, stay safe during these tough times! Until next time ~ devilries


	14. Chapter 14

HOURS LATER, ADRIAN awoke to muffled noises occurring somewhere close to his head.

As his eyelids slowly fluttered open, he became aware of the dull ache that radiated from the center of his chest to throughout his entire body. The room was also much darker than how he last remembered it to be. With the overhead lights having been turned off and the window curtains shut, the only source of light came from the desk lamps at the nurses’ station outside.

On his right, a nurse in dark blue scrubs was quietly changing the fluid bag attached to his I.V. The nurse gave him a small smile when she noticed that he was awake and looking at her.

“Hey there, Adrian, how are you feeling?” she asked in a kind tone.

“I’m okay.” He winced at the hoarse and scratchy sound of his voice.

“Here, honey, drink some water.” The nurse handed him a clear plastic cup with a bendy straw, which he took with a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” he said once he had taken several gulps. The cool liquid had felt amazing against his dry throat, and he drained the cup in no time at all.

The nurse, Grace, nodded with a smile. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

As she took his blood pressure and temperature, Adrian looked around the room and realized that his vivid dream had not been a dream at all. Sitting on one of the armchairs next to the bed was a large, black leather handbag with a black peacoat draped beside it. The other chair was empty, but the vinyl was still creased like somebody had been recently sitting in it.

“Are they still here?” he questioned.

“Is who, honey?” Grace tilted her head curiously as she flipped through his chart which hung on the front of the hospital bed.

“Um—“ Adrian paused, frowning as he tried to remember. “Agent… Jareau and Agent Prentiss?”

“I’m not sure about Agent Jareau, but your mom is still here. I think she just stepped out to get some air.”

“Oh, okay.”

“She’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

“Do you happen to know what time it is?”

The nurse glanced down at the watch on her wrist with a slight hum. “It’s a little past nine p.m. You’ve been out for quite a while, but that’s a good thing. Your body needs rest to heal.” She gave him another smile. “I’ll come back to check in on you later, okay? Is there anything you need in the meantime? A snack maybe?”

Adrian shook his head, so the nurse left the room. As he laid back against the pillow, he let his eyes close once more. Despite having slept for almost the entire day, his eyelids were nevertheless heavy with fatigue. He might as well have gotten no sleep at all with how drowsy he was still feeling.

A few minutes later, right when he was starting to drift off again, he heard the soft clacking of heeled boots near his door. He opened his eyes briefly to see Agent Prentiss strolling back into the room with a styrofoam cup in one hand and her phone raised up to her left ear in the other.

“ _No, you cannot come and see him_ ,” she hissed furiously. Her expression shifted from anger to incredulous in one fell swoop. “ _You’re kidding me, right? If you have to seriously ask ME why, then you are definitely out of your mind! You didn’t want him then. You don’t get to just want him now when it’s suddenly convenient for YOU_.”

Adrian knitted his eyebrows together as he listened to Agent Prentiss’s not-so-quiet conversation. He couldn’t tell who she was talking to specifically, but it certainly sounded like she was talking to someone she despised.

“ _For God’s sake, I’m hanging up now. I don’t care if you think I’m being childish. I’m not fifteen anymore, Mother. Goodbye_.” Agent Prentiss pocketed her phone with a heavy sigh and practically collapsed into the unoccupied chair. She seemed too stressed out to notice that Adrian was awake and staring at her.

“Your mother sounds like a joy,” he said to her in a raspy voice, cracking a slightly amused smile when she jumped and instinctively reached for the right side of her waist. “Sorry. Are you going to shoot me now?”

“Wha—No! Of course not,” Agent Prentiss exclaimed. “You just surprised me was all. You sleep almost all day, but of course, you _would_ catch me at my worst moment.”

Adrian smirked half-heartedly. “And here I thought F.B.I. agents were supposed to be slick.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I am plenty slick,” Agent Prentiss said, feigning offense. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to sneak up on a person carrying a gun?”

“Can’t sneak if I’m confined to bed rest, Agent Prentiss.”

“I digress,” she retorted with a soft chuckle. Then, placing the styrofoam cup on the table, she looked at him with an air of concern. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m alright.” The boy shrugged. “Just a bit sore I suppose. Where’s Agent Jareau?”

“I told her to go back home and sleep in a real bed,” Agent Prentiss explained. “But knowing her, she’ll be back by dawn.”

“Oh.” Adrian wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. He could count on one hand the number of people he knew to truly care about him, and his father had been the only one. His Uncle John cared about him too, but it wasn’t to the extent that his father had gone. And it definitely wasn’t to the extent that Agent Prentiss and Agent Jareau were going.

They had stayed with him the entire time that he had been in the hospital. Had decided to take him in despite not knowing him for more than a day. Technically, he was biologically related to one of them, but it still amazed him how incredibly kind they were being to him. Compassion without ulterior motives was a rarity, and he wondered if it would last.

“You know, you don’t _have_ to call us agent,” Agent Prentiss commented, momentarily interrupting his thoughts.

“Well, what do you _want_ me to call you?” Adrian raised an eyebrow. “ _Mom_?”

Agent Prentiss’s expression softened. “Not if you don’t want to. Just Emily is fine.”

“Okay, _Emily_.”

He was silent as she took a sip from the styrofoam cup, the strong scent of brewed coffee beans filling the room. It didn’t smell nearly as fresh as the coffee in the café around the corner from his house did, but it was enough to make him miss it. His dad really loved their Italian espressos and would get them at least three times a week.

Adrian shifted in place, anxious to make the thoughts go away. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked Emily.

“Sure.” She smiled and put the cup down on the table to give him her full, undivided attention.

“How long have you and JJ been together?”

“A little over two years,” she said with a certain sparkle in her eyes, “though we’ve known each other for longer.”

“So, it was like one of those cheesy, best-friend romances they always show on television.” When Emily shot him a sideways glance, he chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. My dad says I watch too many movies. Well… I guess that’s what he used to say.”

Emily looked sympathetic, but her expression told him that she wasn’t being judgmental. “What sorts of movies do you like?”

“Action… Horror… Sci-Fi… Drama…” Adrian listed out. “But I’ll watch pretty much anything really. My dad and I used to keep track of what movies are shown in theaters. We were actually gonna go see the new Marvel movie that comes out this weekend.”

Emily seemed to be deep in thought. “ _Black Panther_?”

“ _Avengers: Infinity War_ ,” Adrian replied, looking forlorn. “My dad got tickets to see _Black Panther_ the night it premiered. It was an awesome movie.”

“I bet it was. I’ve never seen it, but you’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”

“If you want me to.” He shrugged and then turned to glance at Emily with a look of uncertainty. “Are you sure JJ is okay with me staying with you? You know, since you’re together and all?”

Emily seemed surprised by the question but nonetheless answered without skipping a beat, “I’m sure.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship, Emily.”

Her expression was soft with understanding when she looked at him. “Honey, I promise you. You will never be in the way. There are no words to describe how happy I am to have you living with us, and JJ feels the same way. Trust me.”

Adrian wanted to trust her, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Though his father had talked a lot about Emily Prentiss and Adrian felt like he practically knew Emily from the stories he used to tell about their childhood, he didn’t _actually_ know her. And he certainly didn’t know JJ, who could very well not be as kind as she had appeared to be.

“JJ sounds like a nice person.”

“She is _very_ nice,” Emily agreed. Adrian noticed that her eyes lit up every time they mentioned the blonde-haired agent. “She’s the best. I still don’t know what I did to deserve her. Or _you_ , for that matter.”

“Well, you do _love_ her, right?”

“I do.”

“And she loves you?” Adrian inquired.

The agent chuckled. “Well, I sure hope she does.”

“So, what’s not to know? All that matters, in the end, is that you love each other, right?”

The corners of Emily’s eyes crinkled as her lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

Adrian yawned.

“My love life too boring for you?” she joked.

“Can’t be more boring than mine.” He shrugged with a slight smirk. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. I slept almost the entire day.”

“To be fair, you’ve had a rough couple of days. I think you’ve more than earned your rest.”

Adrian looked at Emily who was sitting rather contently in the armchair by the hospital bed. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about it because she seemed just as tired as he was. “You don’t have to stay, Emily. That doesn’t look too comfortable.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, honey. I’ve had much worse. Not that this is bad.” She propped up her legs on the other chair with a smile, using her coat as a makeshift pillow. “See? All good here.”

“If you’re sure,” Adrian said skeptically.

“I’m sure,” Emily replied with a soft chuckle. “Thank you for the concern though, honey. Try to get some more rest.”

Too exhausted to argue, he closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for fluff :/ Anyways, again, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to check out this story! Love you! Until next time ~ devilries


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